


The Crimson Loftwing

by Saphruikan



Category: Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Genre: Gen, Pets, Psychic Bond, Romance, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-11 13:03:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 77,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saphruikan/pseuds/Saphruikan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of fluffy oneshots centered around Link and his Loftwing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Guardian Ceremony

**_ The Guardian Ceremony _ **

 

Link was ten years old. 

He was lying in his bed, and he was ten years old.

He laughed a little, feeling blessed butterflies swirl in his stomach. He could tell it was very early in the morning by the weights under his eyes, but he wasn’t tired for once. Usually he took every opportunity to sleep, but today . . . today was special.

Today was the day he met his Loftwing for the first time.

He rolled onto his side, cushioning his head with his arm. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. All the ten-year-olds on Skyloft would meet in the highest place on the island; there, under the shadow of the great Statue of the Goddess, their Loftwings would come to them. It happened almost every year, for every generation.  Sometimes there was only one child, looking up into the sky for a new shape; other times there was a large group, sometimes fifteen in number, whispering amongst themselves about their dream birds.

They always wondered what color their birds would be. Blue, green, black or white? Deep russet or light sky? A yellowish lime or the shade of the night? No one knew what the different colors meant, or if they had any meaning at all. Some said it was only a genetic thing, while others insisted that the hue of one’s Loftwing reflected their personality. Blue, the townspeople said said, meant leadership and reassurance, while green was humble and generous. Black was cleverness and white was purity. The lighter your bird was, the wiser you grew to be.

Link didn’t believe most of it. He did think color was important, though. It told how rare a bird was, for example. Blue Loftwings of any shade were the most common, while green and yellow were close behind. Brown and gray were seen only once in a while, and black and white were quite rare.

Link curled and uncurled his toes, flopping onto his other side. He tried to drift asleep, but whenever he closed his eyes images would dance in the darkness of his mind: proud, giant birds that soared around him, feathers waving in the wind, their majestic wings held wide. He imagined them circling him, and one would detach itself from the others and fly to him, and they would be partners for the rest of their lives.

The thought kept him awake until he heard the bell toll.

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

There were only five kids in Link’s group this year: Groose, Cawlin, Strich, Fledge, and Link himself.

It was noon, when the sun was highest in the sky. It shone down directly on the five ten-year-olds, who were huddled in a group on the altar in front of the Statue of the Goddess. She was truly huge from this angle. Link stared up into her smiling face and felt reassured some, for he was nervous now.

Ever since he’d gotten here, a sick, twisted feeling had been born in the back of his head: what if no Loftwing came for him? What if he was bird-less forever? What if he wasn’t worthy enough to earn a partner? The others seemed to be having similar thoughts. Groose didn’t look nearly as pompous as usual, Cawlin looked nauseous, and even Strich had broken his monotonous façade to seem worried. Fledge was full-out panicking. He turned fearful eyes to Link. “When are they coming?” he whispered, his voice shaking.

Link shrugged a shoulder, trying to appear casual but thinking the same thing. “I don’t know. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

The entire town’s population surrounded the five. They stood silently, expressionlessly, looking on with expectant eyes. Every Loftwing of Skyloft was grounded today, standing next to their partners, preening or dozing, so that when they saw a shadow in the sky there could be no mistake that it was a child’s new bird. _They_ seemed relaxed, Link noticed. He sought out a particular pair of bright blue eyes and calmed down a little when he saw the confidence in them. Zelda, standing dutifully next to her father, raised a hand and waved eagerly, giving him the thumbs-up with her other hand. Link raised a hand back. She was only a few months away from ten, but the gap was enough to delay her meeting until next year.

A faint _thump thump thump_ filled the air. Everyone’s heads snapped up to the sky.

A small Loftwing drifted to the ground, flapping its wings when it reached the surface and alighting on the stone. It was smaller than the fully-grown Loftwings, as all new birds were, for it was an adolescent like the kids and would grow up with them. It was a dark blue and rather thick, with a meaty neck and heavily shadowed eyes. Like all Loftwings, its neck, tail, and the ends of its wings were white, and the latter had light blue and red stripes on the outer edges.

It scrutinized the ten-year-olds with an unreadable amber eye, and then began to stride toward them.

They instantly spread out, standing stock-still, shaking visibly, so that it could be clear which of them it chose. It walked purposefully up to Groose and stopped in front of him.

Groose lifted a hand and tentatively placed it on the bird’s bill. Then he smiled in genuine delight, staring into his new partner’s eyes. The Skyloftians cheered for Groose and his Loftwing and welcomed him into their midst as he walked to them, one hand on his bird’s back, still staring like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

After the kids met their birds, they were still forbidden to fly until the day after, because the time in between was to be spent bonding and learning about each other, including the naming of the birds. Flying lessons were also given, and harnesses were fashioned so the new flyers wouldn’t fall off. The kids were also required to perfect their unique whistle by whistling different tunes until they felt their Loftwing respond positively.

It didn’t take long for the other birds to arrive. After Groose’s bird, a faded brownish Loftwing with just a tinge of purple landed and chose Cawlin. The applause had scarcely died down when a grayish lime came and picked Strich. Now the only ones left were Fledge and Link.

As another set of wingbeats filled the air, Fledge and Link exchanged encouraging smiles for each other. Who would the Loftwing pick?

A green, more vivid than Strich’s and thinner, fluttered to the ground clumsily. It wobbled towards them on stick-thin legs, like it wasn’t used to this thing called walking. It seemed to lean toward Link-

-his heart skipped a beat-

-before it veered to the side and stopped in front of Fledge.

As the two walked away amid rather raucous applause, leaving Link alone, Link looked to the skies again, listening intently for the sound of his bird drawing near.

. . . When ten minutes passed, no sound could be heard still.

At this point, Link began to panic. _I really am not worthy._ The sky was lifeless and empty. No bird was coming for him.

He turned shameful eyes to the headmaster, Zelda’s father, refusing to let his eyes drift to Zelda’s herself. He couldn’t bear to see the pity that would surely be there. He’d failed them, both of them, his best friend and his teacher . . . _somehow._ The headmaster had nothing but confused sorrow in his eyes. He motioned for Link to come to him, to step off the pedestal and abandon his chance.

Hanging his head, Link shambled to him, keeping his sight on the ground so the others couldn’t see his overflowing eyes. He was a failure. Somewhere to his right, he could hear Groose and his gang snickering to themselves. There goes Link, they would say, the boy without a Loftwing. They would torment him for the rest of his life. They would be a part of something he would never have.

Something besides his misery began to form in Link’s head and made him pause. It was he and not he at the same time; like a thundercloud flickering on the edge of his consciousness. He had never felt it before, and he didn’t have any idea what it was. It almost scared him, but something . . . something about it felt natural. It felt right. Complete. Whole.

A shadow fell over Link, and a Loftwing’s scream tore through the air.

The crowd gasped as Link looked up. A dark shape was blocking the sun above him, darting down at the ground at a reckless speed. The light from the sun cast a fiery halo around it, giving it a bright red glow. Link ducked, covering his head, as a blast of wind shot over his head and a Loftwing landed on the altar. It turned to the crowd and shrieked again, its beak opened wide, its wings spread to their full extent, showing off its brilliant plumage.

Its feathers were red. Red like blood.

It was a Crimson Loftwing.

The bird sheathed its wings and strode toward Link, tossing its head. He stood still as a statue. His heart felt like it stopped. Crimson Loftwings didn’t exist. They were just an old wives’ tale. It must’ve been a trick of the light that this beautiful creature had taken on the color of a ruby and stopped in front of him.

The thunderstorms in Link’s head grew- then it burst open like a bubble. A flood of unfamiliar emotions clogged Link’s mind, a cautiousness and curiosity that were not his own; cautiousness because somehow the town Link had lived in his entire life was a new place, and curiosity because Link was captivated by . . . himself?

The Loftwing lowered its beak into his outstretched hand – how had it gotten there? – and closed its eyes.

And Link understood.

The world around them was obliterated in that instant. Nothing existed; nothing lived except for those two, the boy and the bird, connected by body and mind. Link’s head was suddenly very busy with two separate entities. He wondered how he had ever thought, ever lived without the Loftwing, this beautiful creature that belonged to him, just as he belonged to it. They were one, and suddenly the thought of being divided was implausible, impossible.

Link opened his eyes and met the eyes of the Loftwing, its- no, _his_ \- brilliant golden irises shining in the light.

And both knew instinctively from each other what to do.

The Crimson Loftwing stepped forward and crouched as Link vaulted himself onto his back. He had a fleeting impression of his surroundings – shocked, blurred faces; blood-red feathers underneath him, lending him warmth; and the smiling Goddess looming overhead – before he was gone.

With three powerful strokes of his wings, the Loftwing launched them both skyward, shrieking in this new and wonderful triumph of unity. They rocketed up, faster than Link thought any bird ever could. He heard panicked shouts from below, but he could scarcely hear them, scarcely care; he only felt the wind in his face, the whistling in his ears, the warmth from his bird beneath him and the new closeness they shared.

Skyloft shrank to a dot on the clouds as the Crimson Loftwing slowed and leveled out, holding its wings steady to drift in a lazy circle. Link rain his hands over the scarlet feathers. He kept trying to convince himself he was dreaming, that he would wake up any minute now with no bird and a hyperactive imagination, but the moment never came.

He always thought that the sky must be a lonely place, with nothing but a bird to keep you company. Ha thought it would be hard to fly. Now he knew that it was anything but. It was the most natural thing in the world to crouch with his knees on the Loftwing’s lower back and keep his hands on his shoulders. It wasn’t loneliness he felt, but peace. An entire third dimension had been added to his world, and he felt like he could do anything, go anywhere. The Crimson Loftwing . . . _his_ Crimson Loftwing . . . turned his head to the side so he could stare at Link. He opened his beak a little and rasped a happy call, like he was asking how Link liked the sky.

Link grinned, and he felt like his heart just might explode from happiness. He had a _Loftwing._ Not just any Loftwing, but a _Crimson Loftwing._ It was almost too much to ask for. Link leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his bird’s neck, burying his face in the feathers.

_“Link! Link!”_

He looked up. Four Skyloft Knights had followed them to the heavens and were circling them. The one who had called out was none other than Headmaster Gaepora himself, riding his old golden Loftwing Kaeba. He waved. _“Are you alright?”_

Link nodded and waved. “I’m fine!” _Go away,_ he thought, _go away and let us fly._

“We’re gonna take you down now!” Instructor Owlan called. “Can you feel your Loftwing? In your head, I mean?”

Link nodded, and Instructor Horwell now said, “Tell it that it needs to descend to the village! It should understand. Make sure it knows that it _has_ to go down, right now!”

Link nodded again, and concentrated, rather unwillingly, on the bubble in his head. He thought with all his might about landing back under the Goddess. The Crimson Loftwing shook his head and uttered a raspy protest, but Link felt him tip forward nonetheless.

Too far, in fact. He folded his wings to his sides, stuck his neck straight out, and began to dive. The instructors and the headmaster yelled for him to stop, to descend slowly and carefully, but the bird and the boy had other ideas. Link instinctively flattened himself to the bird’s back, feeling exhilarated. He could hear the teachers’ birds struggling to match their speed and beat them to the ground, but they were no match for his red terror. They streaked like a flaming comet to Skyloft, diving straight toward the Statue of the Goddess.

The island grew alarmingly fast until it loomed ahead, and Link was sure that his bird would crash him. Just as he was beginning to feel worried, however, the Crimson Loftwing threw his wings out and caught the air. In three powerful strokes he slowed them enough to land, and land they did, touching down on the altar in front of the Goddess, in the middle of a crowd of shocked spectators.

Zelda was the first to run up to them, followed by Fledge and Pipit, an older boy that was friendly to Link. The Crimson Loftwing arched his neck and started to back away, but Link patted his neck, reassuring him, letting him know the three were friends. Zelda bounced to his side and jumped up and down, squealing, _“You got a Crimson Loftwing! You got a Crimson Loftwing!”_

Pipit reached up and pounded Link’s shoulder, almost unseating him. His bird flailed, almost tipping over. “Nice job, Link! You should be proud,” Pipit said, a grin on his face.

“Well, I’ve never seen a sorrier looking thing than that right there!” a pompous voice crowed. Link scowled. Groose and his cronies with their new birds had swaggered up, staring at his bird with narrowed eyes. Groose had a cold smile on his face. “You can’t even control that stupid bird, can you? It took one look at you and tried to take off!”

Zelda whirled on him, hands on her hips, about to angrily retort, but a shriek interrupted her.

The Crimson Loftwing opened his beak and dashed at the trio of idiots, screaming, Link hanging onto his neck frantically. The bird almost knocked the boys over as he beat his wings, trying to kick and scratch them with his talons. Link grabbed his neck and forced him to back up, trying to think of happy things to calm the bird. Groose’s blue bird sidled in front of the Crimson Loftwing, hissing savagely, protecting its partner.

The instructors landed then and separated the angry birds, though a few got bitten in the process. Link dismounted his Loftwing and slung his arm around his shoulders, holding him still so he wouldn’t go after Groose. The bird kept making lunging motions with his neck whenever he saw him.

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

The kids spent the night in the sparring hall, which was the only place big enough to fit both them and their Loftwings. As a rule, Loftwings were never allowed in the academy, but the hall was an exception. The kids stayed up long into the night, socializing with their birds and trying to think of names for them. They were mostly divided into two groups: Groose’s gang, and Link and Fledge. They both stayed as far away from each other as possible; Groose said it was to keep the “loser smell” out of his nose, but Link knew he was just scared of the Crimson Loftwing.

Link and Fledge sat across from each other, telling stories and commenting on observances they had about their birds. Fledge, for instance, had discovered that if you scratched a Loftwing on its upper neck and skull, it would go completely limp and close its eyes with bliss, almost like a Remlit being scratched behind the ears. Link in turn had found that some Loftwings - like his own - didn’t seem to like the color pink too much; a faded pink was fine, but a strong, vivid magenta irritated them. He’d found this out the hard way when they’d passed a Skyloft Knight. The Crimson Loftwing had become strangely jerky and twitchy, and Link could feel animosity boiling in his head.

Fledge sighed. “I’m jealous of you, Link. You and your bird are so . . . close. I can tell you two just act so comfortably with each other.”

Link blinked. “Isn’t it the same with you and your bird?” He glanced behind him at his Loftwing. He had fallen asleep with his head buried beneath his feathers and standing on one leg. It looked like one poke could tip him over.

Fledge shook his head. “I’m . . . kind of scared of her. I mean, her beak looks so sharp, right? One wrong move, and you’ve got a scar.” He shuddered. His Loftwing was standing on one leg but not asleep, just gazing around lazily with soft movements of her head.

“But can’t you feel her?” Link asked. “I mean, her emotions?”

Fledge shrugged. “Kind of . . . only when it’s really strong, I guess. She’s still mysterious to me.” He patted her leg carefully. She didn’t respond.

Link thought it was odd. Didn’t he know this was a _guardian_ bird? One that would never hurt him? Their very purpose was to help and protect their partners. Didn’t they feel the connection, the bond? 

Was everyone like this?

“So . . . what do you think you’re gonna name her?” Link asked, to change the subject.

Fledge smiled shyly. “I have a few ideas. What about you?”

Link had been batting a few names around in his head for a while, and he really liked how one sounded. It seemed to fit the Crimson Loftwing very well.

“I’ve got some ideas too.”

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

The next morning, the kids and their Loftwings were lined up with their birds to their right sides. They were under the shadow of the Statue of the Goddess once again. Today was the Ceremony of the Names, and the whole town was there to watch. Zelda waved at Link. He grinned back. He couldn’t wait to tell the town the name he’d thought of. He’d tossed and turned, wondering if his bird would accept it, or if the village would laugh at him. He hoped not.

Headmaster Gaepora stepped up to Groose, first in line. They were arranged in order from whoever got their bird first to last. “Groose,” he said in a loud voice, “what have you decided to call your partner?”

In a booming voice and a very pointed glance at Zelda, he practically bellowed, “Banon!”

The courtyard rang with applause. Gaepora nodded, smiling, then stepped up to Cawlin. “Cawlin, what have you decided to call your partner?”

Cawlin’s Loftwing, the faded purple female, was to be called “Darunia!”

More applause. Link’s pulse pounded in his ears.

“Strich, what have you decided to call your partner?”

“Dragonfly.”

A few laughs were dispersed around the courtyard this time. Strich always was a little strange.

Gaepora stopped in front of Fledge. “Fledge, what have you decided to call your partner?”

Fledge swallowed uneasily and mumbled something. Gaepora leaned closer. “I’m sorry, Fledge, I missed that. What have you decided to name your partner?”

Fledge swallowed again and said in a slightly louder voice, “Nabooru.”

Gaepora smiled and nodded. “A good name,” he said, and Fledge swelled with rare pride.

And then Gaepora stepped up to Link, a friendly grin on his face. “Link,” he said softly, looking down at him with proud eyes, “what have you decided to name your partner?”

Link turned his eyes to the majestic bird at his side, _his_ bird. The Crimson Loftwing’s red feathers caught the morning sun and shone beautifully, bathing him in a fuzzy halo. He looked down at Link with an amber eye and rasped gently. And Link knew, just like he knew that skies were free and clouds were endless, that his new friend had found his name pleasing.

“Aepon.”


	2. Just a Little Bit of Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link isn't so keen on jumping off of Skyloft. Aepon isn't amused.

Just A Little Bit Of Trust

Jumping off of Skyloft was not fun.

It never had been. Every time Zelda had dragged Link to the edge and told him to look down, he’d felt nothing but nausea. It was so easy to just tip right off and into open air. What if he fell? Who would catch him? He had no bird then. How did the adults leap off so readily? Weren’t they _scared?_

Now, as a ten-year-old, Link had a Loftwing, and a proud, beautiful bird he most definitely was. Link couldn’t imagine a better bird. Aepon was a Crimson Loftwing and majestic and sociable; often walking with Link around town while the other Loftwings took to the skies and creating quite a stir in the marketplace. Even when he was flying he kept close to the ground, keeping Link company with his ever-present shadow. He was always watching. Always waiting.

But the anxiety didn’t go away.

Link knew what Aepon wanted. He wanted Link to join him in the sky, for wasn’t a joyous thing so much better when one had a partner to savor it with? But Link took one look off the edge of Skyloft and backed away, his heart hammering.

The other kids did it all the time, he knew. Groose and his gang were forever diving off the plaza platform and whistling for their birds, who always came without fail. They frolicked in the sky like Remlit kittens, tumbling over one another and playing chase. Even timid Fledge spent a goodly amount of time with his lanky Nabooru. Link felt cheated that such a scared boy could do something he could not, could throw himself off the edge of the world, knowing his partner would be there to catch him.

And as the kids played with their birds, the Crimson Loftwing flew alone.

Link wasn’t scared of heights. No one ever was. How could they? They lived on the top of the world; nothing was higher than Skyloft, not even the other small communities in the sky. No, Link was terrified of falling. He always shuddered at the thought of plummeting to his crashing death beneath the clouds, where no one knew what dwelled. He was afraid of freezing up before he could whistle – for he _had_ perfected his whistle, and found one that Aepon responded to readily – and falling, silent except for horrified screams.

The thought kept him away from the edge for over a week after the Guardian Ceremony.

Their first flight had been so _easy._ Aepon was like a dream, darting like a scarlet cannonball into the sky, Link laughing on his back. It had been too short, and Link wished the headmaster had never intervened. Maybe then he would have grown used to the open air. Maybe then he would have been like the other kids.

Maybe then he wouldn’t have been such a coward.

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

Zelda was worried about him, Link knew. Every day without fail she asked him if he would like to fly with her. She always borrowed her father’s Loftwing, the humongous old gold Kaeba, and she knew more about flying than he did. Link made up excuses to slip away, something he’d never, ever done to his best friend. “I have to help Fledge with Nabooru” he would say. Or “Instructor Orwell asked me to do something for him.” They seemed to work, and he would run to the waterfall, sit in the grass, and mope about his fears. The main thing Link was worried about now was the thought that Aepon might abandon him if he kept refusing to fly with him. He always searched the sky for Aepon, watching him soar.

One day, Zelda had had enough.

She cornered him in the Bazaar. He mumbled a new excuse and turned to leave, but she planted herself in front of him, hands on her hips, eyes narrowed.

“What?” he asked, eager to leave.

“You’ve been avoiding me lately, and I want to know why,” was the answer. Zelda always had been painfully blunt.

Link shuffled his feet and stared at the ground. “It’s nothing,” he muttered.

Zelda grabbed his face and forced his head up, making sure he was looking into her eyes. He struggled to keep eye contact.

“This is about your bird, isn’t it?” she demanded. “Why haven’t you been flying with him?”

Link really did try to give the honest answer – he was a terrible liar, and it made him feel bad – but all he could get out was “Mmphh.”

Zelda turned on her heel and grabbed his hand. “You’re coming with me.”

And so it was that a new daily routine was brought about. Zelda would abduct him for an hour or two a day and force him to fly – on Kaeba. They would meet in the courtyard of the Statue of the Goddess and climb onto the big gold’s back and take off from there. Zelda would sit in front with her hands on the old girl’s shoulders and Link would wrap his arms around her waist behind her. And they would just fly around, talking, making jokes, both trying to get rid of the anxiety in Link’s stomach.

Because it wouldn’t go away.

Even without diving from the platforms, Link was disoriented and scared in the sky. It suddenly became painfully important that the only thing separating him from falling unheeded to his death was a few feet of feather and bone. One lurch, one tilt, and it would be so easy to slip off. And Kaeba couldn’t dive all that well. What was stopping him from dying there, so easily? He felt like he risked his life every time he was off the ground, and he was always relieved to be back on solid earth again.

Whenever they flew, Aepon would follow them. The Crimson Loftwing flew behind and above them like a great red shadow, never overtaking them or swooping to the side. He never made a sound, either. He just stared and stared at his partner on this other bird’s back. Link could feel his amber eye boring into the back of his skull the whole time. In his mind, the thundercloud shrank and turned into a black storm of what was certainly resentment. Link felt ashamed to dwell on it, so he pushed it from his head.

When Aepon visited him on the ground from then on, Link noticed a peculiar snappiness in the bird’s mood. He no longer looked at things with interest; instead, his eyes were dull and lusterless, and his head barely moved as he walked. He hissed savagely when things startled him and even tried to bite Link once, when the boy reached up and patted his head when Aepon wasn’t paying attention. The Loftwing immediately whirled and snapped his sharp beak shut not two inches away from Link’s fingers.

Link started to avoid going outside altogether. He figured he would either be assaulted by his best friend or his bird, and the thought shook him more than flying any day.

One day, the Crimson Loftwing snapped.

They were flying as usual. Link and Zelda were on Kaeba and they were drifting a little to the right of the waterfall, for they never flew too high. It wasn’t very calm today; it was gusty, and Kaeba kept lurching and tilting as the winds buffeted her. The tumultuous weather did nothing to help Link’s queasiness. Without noticing, he had started shaking more than usual, and he rested his forehead on Zelda’s shoulder. She reached behind and put her hand on his head. “Link? Are you okay?”

A gust hit them head-on, and Kaeba instinctively angled her wings and her body up to rise above it. The ensuing tilt made Link yelp and grab Zelda tighter. “Can we go down now?” he asked quickly.

“We’ll go back now. Do you think-“ was all she got out. Just then, a bloodcurdling Loftwing shriek split the sky.

A red missile zoomed in front of them from above. It struck Kaeba in the neck and she recoiled, crying out in fear and pain. She leaned far back to escape her assailant-

-and Link slid off her back and into open air.

He fell backwards, the wind screaming in his ears, or maybe that was just him. He heard _“LINK!”_ from above, but then the wind spun him around onto his stomach and he saw the cloud barrier rising up fast to meet him. The wind was deafening, louder than it had ever been, as Link plummeted, flailing, far below Skyloft. His home island was shrinking rapidly.

Link’s mind was a blank state of panic and desperation; he didn’t think of Zelda, or his Loftwing, or his friends. He only thought of how much it would hurt. His nightmare was coming true and he was going to die in agony and alone.

Not alone. A flash of red to the side drew Link’s frantic attention. Aepon was there, diving with him, his wings clasped to his sides and his eye on Link.

A gush of hope bubbled in Link’s stomach. Aepon was here. Aepon would save him. Everything would be all right. He reached out with both arms, reaching for his bird.

Aepon swerved away, out of reach. Link’s face fell. It must’ve been a stray column of wind that pushed the bird away. The Crimson Loftwing couldn’t have been avoiding him deliberately. “Aepon!” he yelled over the wind. “Help me!” He lunged for his bird’s neck again.

Aepon slid his wings open a little and caught the wind enough to steer himself. He darted to the side. Away from Link. Then he straightened himself and dove again, always keeping level with Link, always watching. Just watching.

Tears of desperation and horror and panic began to stream across Link’s face and into his hair. He knew now. He knew what his bird was doing. This was his punishment for his neglect. He was going to learn just what happened to a child that ignored his Loftwing. He was going to crash against whatever lay beneath the clouds – which was only a hundred feet away – and his guardian was going to watch. Just watch.

_“Aepon!”_ he screamed. _“PLEASE! I’M SORRY!”_

Aepon didn’t even blink, but he opened his beak a little and crooned. It was not the sound of a shamed Loftwing impatient to watch a human hit the ground. It was the sound of a guardian bird waiting for its partner to do something.

Not watching. Waiting.

Link hunched into a ball, jammed his fingers inside his mouth, and whistled.

The wind tore the sound away, and for one terrifying moment Link thought Aepon wouldn’t hear it. He looked to the side to make sure- and the Crimson Loftwing was gone.

_WHUMPH._ Link landed hard. Not on the bone-breaking surface, but a hard feathery back that he slammed spread-eagled into. He felt the mighty wings beat up and down beside him and they were rising.

The next few moments were a blur. It could have been seconds; it could have been an hour. All he knew was that Skyloft was getting closer and closer and Kaeba and a few other Loftwings were circling overhead and he was completely limp except for his hands, which were grasping the red feathers below him in a death grip.

A shadow fell over him, and Aepon lurched as he landed; they had touched down on the plaza near the Light Tower. Worried townspeople had gathered and hovered over him, asking him if he was hurt and what had happened. Link willed his shaky legs to move and slid off Aepon’s back and onto the cobbled stone. Then he heard a _“LINK!”_ and a small body slammed into him at full speed. Zelda threw her arms around Link and nearly throttled him as she hugged him tightly.

Tears were still running down Link’s face, and his heart couldn’t decide whether it wanted to stop or gallop. Zelda was crying, too, and refused to let him go until she’d hugged him for a full minute. Then she frantically looked him over, checking for bruises or broken bones and ignoring Link’s shaky voice saying he was fine. When she seemed satisfied he was okay, she whirled on Aepon, who was watching quietly from a distance.

She marched up to the Crimson Loftwing and got up in his face, yelling, “What’s the big idea? Why would you hit an old bird like that? Kaeba is _old_ and _delicate!_ And you knocked your own rider right off of her! And what took you so long, making Link fall so far like that? You should be ashamed!” Aepon, who didn’t understand human speech but knew he was in trouble, backed off a little, rasping uneasily. He raised his neck and looked over her head at Link.

Zelda looked about ready to lay into the bird again, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. She turned and saw Link, still a little shaky but smiling. “Zelda, calm down. It’s fine.” He glanced up at Aepon sheepishly. Aepon impassively stared back. The thundercloud in Link’s head smoldered.

They kept eye contact for a second, and then Link’s eyes fell to the ground. “I’m sorry, Aepon,” he mumbled. “I should’ve tried to be with you more.”

_“You_ have nothing to be sorry about-“ Zelda started, but Link shushed her with an exasperated look. He looked back up at Aepon.

“Forgive me?” he asked quietly.

Aepon didn’t move; he just stared. Then he broke eye contact to look around at the crowd of people, then the ground, then the sky, and back to the crowd. He fluffed out his feathers, blinked lazily, and lowered his beak and nuzzled Link’s shoulder.

Link’s face broke into a grin and he hugged his Loftwing’s neck, burying his face in the feathers like when they’d first flown together. He felt the black thundercloud dissipate into playful goodwill. Above him, Aepon crooned and tilted his head, looking down at his partner.

When he let go, he saw Zelda smiling at him with a peculiar expression on her face. She waited until he stepped up to her, then suddenly grabbed his hand and started dragging him to the diving platform.

“Whoa whoa- _whoawhoawhoa Zeldawhatareyoudoing,”_ Link squeaked, digging his heels into the ground amid the gentle laughter of the spectators. He was not going out there again. That was enough for one day.

She grinned cockily at him over her shoulder. “Aepon and you are okay now, aren’t you? Well, he’ll catch you now. All you have to do is whistle.” She shoved him in front of her, to the edge of the wooden platform. He teetered on the edge for a second, arms wheeling, before Zelda caught his shoulders and held him in place. “Remember,” she murmured into his ear, “jump off and spread your arms and legs. Fall chest-first. Whistle whenever you want your bird to come and get ready to grab his back. Have you made a collar yet?” When he shook his head, she continued, “Huh. Well, just grab his feathers, I guess.”

“How do you know all this?” Link asked, trying to stall.

“My father’s the _headmaster,_ Link. I’ve been reading about this stuff since I was little.” And with that, she put her hands on his back and shoved him right off the platform.

He almost started panicking again, but then he heard flapping wings and saw Aepon dive with him, like when the Loftwing had watched him almost die. This time, though, Aepon darted around him playfully, frolicking in the sky, eyes alight with amusement. The sight of him struck a fire in Link’s heart, and its smoke cleared away the nausea and anxiety like a gale of wind. It was the easiest thing in the world to watch him dance in the air and whistle when he didn’t feel like falling anymore. 

Aepon immediately zoomed underneath Link and flared his wings to slow himself. Link grabbed his neck feathers as he landed rather clumsily, and he felt Aepon flinch when he pulled a few. And then they were flying.

Link didn’t know what to say for himself. He suddenly felt more ashamed and sorrowful than any other time in his life. How could he have passed this up for the ground? How could he have chosen two dimensions over three? It was lunacy. If Link was back in time with this mentality, he would’ve thrown himself off the edge of Skyloft as much as possible. After all, Aepon would be there to catch him.

Aepon banked and drifted to the left, keeping his wings open wide. Link slid a little to the side and awkwardly grabbed Aepon’s neck and back to keep himself level. What was he thinking? He had to make a collar when he landed. What design would it be? Something simple and, like Zelda would say, something that wouldn’t clash with Aepon’s red and white feathers. He would have to ask her when he landed; he’d never had much of an eye for fashion. It would have to be strong enough to withstand pulling but comfortable enough that it wouldn’t rub against Aepon’s neck and wear away skin.

Link thought of how he’d woken up miserable and dreading the day and now was happy and light as a feather and thinking of ideas for his Loftwing’s collar. It made him laugh, though the wind whipped his voice away. It was glorious to feel so free. It was dazzling.

And then he just felt so _tired._ The excitement and stress and near-death experience of the day struck him full on right then. He slumped against Aepon’s back and sighed, closing his eyes. He felt Aepon rise a bit higher and steady himself. Link could just fall sleep right then, to the sound of the wind dying down and the sun on his face and the gentle rocking as his bird flapped his wings. And he did.

Because if he slipped off, he knew now Aepon would always be there to catch him.


	3. I'm More Important

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aepon dislikes the concept of learning.

I’m More Important

Over the next few weeks Link took every opportunity to leave the ground. 

When he (finally) woke up, he would dress as fast as he could, wolf down a quick breakfast, and dash out the door. From there, he would stop, close his eyes, and tell Aepon he was up. Immediately the Crimson Loftwing would take flight from wherever he had been sleeping and race to Link as fast as he could. Then Link would throw himself off the nearest wooden platform he could find and they would go flying.

Once Link overcame the last lingering dregs of fear, he grew to love flying like nothing else. It was freedom, pure and simple. It was the most fun he’d ever had in his life. It became more natural to him than breathing. He recognized the gusts and gales that blew through the day like old friends and danced with them in the highest reaches of the sky. He perfected rolls, climbs, and even dives through the crags of Skyloft, the close proximity of the land whipping past flattening his hair.

With every passing day Link grew closer and closer to Aepon. He came to know what every tilt of his head and every placement of his feathers meant about his intent and mood. He learned about his Loftwing’s likes and dislikes, his love for mashing paper in his bill and his hatred for getting wet. He learned that trying to hide sunflower seeds was a terrible idea and that trying to hide pink clothing was a good one. He learned how to care for and check on his bird’s health and well-being, searching for symptoms of illnesses and injury. He had even fashioned a simple collar for Aepon; a supple ring of leather with a buckle to tighten and loosen as his Loftwing grew. Aepon wore it all the time once he grasped what its purpose was; at first he kept trying to scratch it off.

Their minds grew closer every day as well. At first Link had only been able to sense Aepon if he really concentrated, and if Aepon was thinking of something rather loudly. Now, though, he could feel his bird much more easily. He found that if he let himself drift off, he could open his eyes and be looking through Aepon’s, high above the clouds. It was as disorienting as it was exhilarating. And sometimes Aepon’s thoughts bled out into Link’s mind and influenced his mood. Ever since he’d met Aepon, Link suddenly kept feeling the urge to snack on pumpkin seeds and keep his hair as neat as possible. There was no end to the teasing Zelda gave him over this. “Aepon’s making sure you keep well groomed!” she would say, laughing.

And Aepon learned about Link. He soon knew that a bouncing, loud, smiling Link was a happy Link and a day full of laughter and head scratches and treats for Aepon would ensue. He also knew that when the boy was feeling downcast or depressed a good idea would be to snatch him up for a rambunctious ride in the clouds, followed by lying together in the shade of a tree, listening to the wind hissing in the leaves and his boy’s voice as he told Aepon his troubles. 

Aepon learned that the one called Zelda brought Link great joy and many more laughs. He found that Link grew mad and sad if Aepon didn’t let Zelda ride on his back. Aepon couldn’t help it. He only wanted _Link_ with him. Eventually, though, the bouncy, cheery girl wormed her way into Aepon’s affection, and he accepted her and welcomed her presence.

Aepon learned that the big, meaty, never-alone one called Groose brought Link great anger and frustration and sadness that Aepon didn’t like at all. Groose and his lackeys would corner Link and push him around and yell and laugh in his face. The first few times Aepon had caught this, he hadn’t understood. He had immediately rushed the boys and driven them away with much screeching and beating of his mighty wings. Link had calmed the bird and told him firmly through their minds that Aepon must never harm other humans. However, when Link wasn’t around, Groose was fair game; Aepon took every opportunity to make sure Groose knew that if even a hair on Link’s head was misplaced, the Crimson Loftwing would maul the bully’s face off.

Through sad days and joyful ones, through violent winds and listless skies, through rough-and-tumble games and quiet companionship, Link and Aepon grew closer and closer. Slowly but surely, they were becoming true partners.

Slowly but surely, they were becoming best friends.

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

One thing Aepon did _not_ understand, however, was the concept of school. Every newly bonded ten-year-old was given a month off of school or work to better bond with his or her bird. Link had wasted one week being too afraid to fly and spent the last three weeks flying and playing with Aepon as much as possible. Now his time was up, and he couldn’t continue his morning routine of immediate flight anymore. He was dreading the boredom and frustration of sitting in a classroom when he could be among the clouds high above. Most of all, he was dreading what Aepon would think. 

The day before class started, Link went outside to Aepon. The Crimson Loftwing fluttered down from the roof and rasped, rubbing his beak against Link’s arm. Link pushed him away and held the bird’s head steady, staring into Aepon’s eyes. He concentrated with all his might on telling Aepon that tomorrow and most of the days after would be flightless days, at least for the morning. He tried to make the Loftwing understand that Link had to go somewhere important where Aepon wasn’t allowed. 

Aepon pulled his head out of Link’s hands and rasped again, irritated. Link could feel his displeasure with what he’d told the bird. He sighed and smiled. “Sorry, buddy,” he mumbled. “I can’t help it. If I had my way, I’d fly with you every day, but . . . I have to learn, you know?”

Aepon’s feathers were slicked down to his body, which Link knew meant stress and unhappiness. “I know,” he said, scratching the top of Aepon’s head. “It’s annoying, right? I can’t help it. I hope you understand.”

Then he stretched and smiled. “But that’s tomorrow. Today, let’s go flying, okay?”

Aepon immediately perked up and spread his wings, eyes bright.

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

The next morning, Link forced himself out of bed bright and early and trudged out the door at a snail’s pace. His eyes were puffy and dull and he dragged his feet in the dirt. He did _not_ want to go to school. He wanted to go back through the door, shut all the blinds, and crawl between his sheets and go to sleep again.

He glanced up behind him. The roof was empty. Aepon must’ve been sleeping somewhere else. Link wanted to see him, he always did, but he knew it was for the best. Aepon would probably have followed him and pestered Link all the way to school about staying home with him. He made sure to keep his thoughts away from the thundercloud in his head so as not to alert Aepon he was leaving, wherever the bird was.

As he slowly made his way to the Academy with his backpack full of paper and pencils, he couldn’t help looking up in the sky for a pair of red wings, even when he could tell through his mind that Aepon was asleep and dreaming about chasing a cloud. He smiled. He was tempted to let go of himself and just watch his bird dream, but he was worried Aepon would sense his presence and wake up. It was the sweetest thing to watch Aepon sleep. He always twitched and tilted his head and made little calls to phantoms no one else could see.

Someone suddenly bumped into Link’s shoulder, shaking him from his thoughts and nearly tipping him over. He straightened back up, about to snap at the somebody, but he rolled his eyes when he saw it was Zelda.

“Hi, Link!” she said cheerily, a huge smile on her face. “Ready for school?”

He gave her a deadpan stare. _“No._ I just want to go back to bed.”

Zelda bumped her shoulder against his. “Well, of course _you_ want to go back to sleep! Is that all you ever do?”

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

Class was as unbearable as Link suspected it would be. Try as he might, he just couldn’t concentrate on the simple math problems Instructor Horwell had put on the chalkboard for the class to try and refresh their memories after the month-long break. The problems were easy enough, but Link’s frustration at being stuck in the classroom clouded his mind and made concentrating impossible. There were ten and he’d only gotten three done, and he was quite sure one of them was wrong.

And of _course_ Link and Zelda had been the last ones in their class to arrive, meaning all of the seats were taken except for the two in the front, and of _course_ Link had taken the seat closest to the door. It was pure torture to see the open door whenever Link looked up, beckoning to him, mocking him, knowing he couldn’t escape this classroom even if he wanted to.

He rested his hand on his cheek and glanced at the other students. Zelda was sitting beside him on question seven, a slight smile on her face as she tackled the easy problems and most likely got all of them right. Fledge was on her other side, chewing the eraser of his pencil nervously as he struggled to remember how to do the math. Groose, Cawlin, and Strich were in the back, goofing off and pelting spitballs at those unfortunate enough to sit in front of them. The students in the in-between rows were working diligently at varying speeds, from those who had barely started to those who were already done. Instructor Horwell was walking in among the students, politely pointing out mistakes and patiently answering questions. He always had been Link’s favorite teacher, for he was mellow and kind-hearted, and much more approachable than the intimidating Instructor Owlan.

Link was in mid-yawn when he felt the thundercloud in his head begin to stir. Aepon had been awake for a while now, but all of a sudden his mind was alight with . . . mischief. Link knew that feeling. Whenever the bird was feeling particularly clever, his emotions took on a sickly yellow color and darted about all over the place, spilling into Link’s consciousness. Link suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to be sneaky. Behind his eyes, he saw the Academy from the outside at a high angle. _Aepon,_ what are you planning?

He was quickly distracted right then by Fledge, who timidly asked Link if he could help him with problem number five. Zelda and Fledge switched places so that the shy boy could sit next to Link and they could puzzle it out together. They were nearing the end of number seven when they heard slamming doors and yelling outside the classroom. 

Everyone stopped what he or she was doing and looked toward the open door. No one could see anything, but everyone could hear someone running down the hall, calling, _“Loose Loftwing! Loose Loftwing!”_

“Loose Loftwing?” Instructor Horwell said, straightening. “Loftwings aren’t allowed in the Academy. Where-“

He was interrupted by Aepon barreling through the door. 

The Crimson Loftwing had his wings raised and his legs spread, and his eyes were bright. His amber eye swept the room and landed on Link, sitting in the seat closest to the door. Before anyone could move or think, he strode up to his partner, snapped his beak shut on the back of Link’s shirt, and dragged him out of his seat and across the floor. 

Aepon had dragged Link out the door and down the hall a ways before Link could break free. But Aepon just clamped his jaws shut around Link’s whole shoulder instead and dragged him toward the wooden double doors of the Academy, which were ajar. Link didn’t move, afraid of stabbing himself on the sharp hooked end of the bird’s beak, and yelled, _“Aepon! Bad!_ Let go!” He tried to grab the Crimson Loftwing’s head and shove him away, but Aepon just tightened his grip and shook his head a little, dragging Link in a zigzag across the floor.

Then Aepon released him and crouched over him, hissing savagely at the people who were trying to intervene, including the two Instructors. He swayed back and forth, wings held out to his sides, beak open, and then tried to lunge at Instructor Horwell.

Link leapt up and wrapped his arms around the bird’s neck, dragging him back and holding his beak shut. “Aepon, stop! Whoa, boy, calm down,” he tried to say soothingly, but Aepon continued hissing and giving the crowd death glares. Link glanced back at them and smiled sheepishly. “Ah . . . sorry, everyone. I’ll be right back.” Then he shoved Aepon out the door and closed it.

He leaned his back against the door and huffed out a breath, eyes closed. He could still hear his pulse pounding in his ears. When he opened his eyes, he saw Aepon dancing around happily, walking slow and low to the ground, wings spread in a heart shape on his back and bobbing his head with every deliberate step he took. The thundercloud in Link’s head held nothing but glee and victory and _TRIUMPH!_

Link groaned and lead the bird to the nearest wooden platform. Aepon rasped in delight and bounced ahead of him, crouching and tilting his head when he got there, eyes bright. If Link could translate his face from a bird’s to a human’s, Aepon would have had the silliest and stupidest grin on his face. It made Link laugh.

Aepon shuffled at the edge, looking expectantly at Link, then deliberately to the sky below. He rasped again. Link scratched his neck with a sigh. “Aepon, we’re not going flying.”

Aepon tilted his head. He didn’t understand.

Link took Aepon’s head in both hands and stared into his eye. “We can’t go flying right now. I have to go back to class. You’re not allowed in the Academy. You’re not allowed to barge in and drag me out, no matter how much you want to. You have to wait until class is over.” He accompanied each sentence with a matching thought and sent it at the thunderhead in his mind.

Aepon screeched in distaste. He shook his head free and tried to shove the boy toward the edge, but Link ducked under his neck and took a few steps back to the Academy. “Seriously, Aepon,” he said sternly. He put his hands on his hips; Zelda did that whenever she meant business and it made her look terrifying. Hopefully it made Link look like the boss too. “I have to go back to class and you have to wait for me. All the other birds wait for their people. Just be patient, okay?”

Aepon crooned sadly and nuzzled Link, looking extremely put out. His head was low to the ground and he refused to meet his boy’s eyes. The sight almost shattered Link’s resolve.

“Hey, buddy,” he said softly, lifting Aepon’s head into a hug. “It’s okay. I’ll be out in a few hours. It’s not that long. Then we can go flying all day if you want. Okay?”

This perked Aepon up considerably. He fluffed his feathers out again and beat his wings, stirring up leaves and dirt. Link covered his eyes, laughing. “Now go on. Go fly around or something.”

Aepon crouched and took off, circling over Link’s head. The turbulence from his wings ruffled his partner’s hair. Link grinned up at him. “See you later, Aepon- wait, where are you going?”

Aepon had just landed on the roof of the Academy. He folded his wings, shook out his tail, and blinked down at his boy, as if to ask, “What?”

The thundercloud in Link’s head settled down into a blue color as calm as the sky. Aepon intended to wait there until Link came out. “You don’t have to wait there, you know!” he called up to his bird. Aepon didn’t respond. He only tucked his head against his neck and closed his eyes, about ready to take a nap.

“Suit yourself!” Link said, chuckling. The stubborn bird would probably do that every day now, just because he could. At least he wouldn’t go barging into the Academy anymore.

_I’m going to be teased forever for this,_ Link thought with a sigh. _I can hear Groose now . . . “You were thrashing around like a hooked fish!”_


	4. Teamwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link wants to become a Knight, but he doesn't know how to communicate effectively with Aepon.

Link was fourteen years old.

He was lying in his bed, and he was fourteen years old.

His eyes were puffy and drooping. It was extremely early in the morning, and he hadn’t gotten any sleep at all last night. For Link, this was so exceptionally out of character that it worried him even more than he already was.

The truth was, he was scared. 

The day after tomorrow was an important day. It was one of the most important days of his entire life. It would affect his entire future. If he failed . . . he would never be able to live with it. He wanted to succeed so _badly. . . ._

The Skyloft Knights were the older, multicolored group of citizens who took public safety very seriously. They were always patrolling around Skyloft, keeping the peace with their intimidating presence and hounding little kids about being responsible and not being a nuisance. Universal animosity flourished in the minds of all children towards these knights. They were just trying to keep them from having fun, weren’t they? They were walking, talking rules in people-with-badges form. If a child caught sight of a brightly colored tunic anywhere, regardless of whether what they were doing was bad or not, they would alert their young brethren at once.

If the two – unruly children and disciplined lawgivers – were such enemies, why, then, did it all change so abruptly once the kids became teenagers? What could have caused such instinctive rivalry to dissipate? Where did the mischief go?

It started small. Rumors, a word at the dinner table of the heroic feats of the Skyloft Knights, a bit of praise for their efficiency. The newly-turned teens start to wonder just what makes those knights so special. If the whole of Skyloft praised them, then surely they must be something great. When the kids turned into teenagers, those brightly-colored uniforms turned from walking pillars of boring to glamorous objects of envy. By this age, it becomes universally obvious that everyone wants to be a Skyloft Knight.

Link and Zelda were no different to this inevitable process. At first they loathed the knights. They kept ruining their fun. What was wrong with tying cans to the Remlits’ tails (Mia, Zelda’s new pet, was an obvious exception) and watching them run around, yowling, in panic as the tin banged and clashed behind them? Or tying sleeping kids’ shoes together so that they’d trip and fall when they woke and tried to walk? Or hiding in the bushes in the evening and popping out with a “BOO!” at unsuspecting citizens out for a twilight stroll? Nothing. It was all harmless play. What was this ‘disturbing the peace’ those knights spoke of?

And once both the two got their Loftwings, the pranks didn’t abate, but doubled. A year after Link met Aepon, Zelda received a light bluish-purple male Loftwing that she named Nohan. Link and Zelda quickly learned that their birds, and most birds in general, had a wicked mischievous streak. For instance, if a group of them were perched somewhere, just preening, a bored bird might sneak up on a distracted Loftwing and give it a poke, startling it, and the silly Loftwing would dart away amused for another few minutes before succumbing to boredom again.

The first time Link and Zelda had seen this, they couldn’t believe their eyes. Loftwings were animals; _very_ intelligent animals, but animals nonetheless. Why would any bird take the time and energy to prank another bird? What creature was smart enough to plot for that? They soon learned that Loftwings were more than capable of drawing amusement from the plight of other birds. 

Once Aepon and Nohan met each other they became fast friends, sticking together as much as possible, sleeping and preening together like they’d been brothers their whole lives. Link often wondered if they got along so well because their partners were such close friends.

The two kids and their birds soon became a notorious prank gang on Skyloft. When all four were spotted in the marketplace, people would wonder what nefarious scheme they were cooking up next. Shopkeepers watched their wares like Guays watched their eggs. And more often than not, Link, Zelda, Aepon, and Nohan got away with whatever they did to prank another day.

Whenever they did get caught, however, it was by a Skyloft Knight. The knights came to recognize them and follow them around, making sure no ruckus was raised under their watch. Link and Zelda hated turning around to see a stiff uniform tailing them, and Aepon and Nohan hissed when they saw the bright colors pass by.

Then they turned thirteen.

Zelda was the first to turn. A life surrounded by her father, the Headmaster, the Instructors, and numerous knights took its toll on her. One day she confessed to Link that she aspired to be a knight one day. Link was shocked at first. Those knights were boring, unfunny people that couldn’t stand to see kids have fun. What was to like?

But Zelda influenced him more than anyone in his life. Eventually, she got to him. And the jealousy took him like a plague. He wanted to have the power the knights wielded. He wanted their authority and respect.

And now, at fourteen, he finally had a chance to be one. Fourteen was the age that teenagers could apply for knight training, which would continue for four years and replace and make up for normal education. Sword fighting, advanced science and mathematics, and skilled bird riding would be taught to the knights-to-be, the best education that Skyloft had to offer. Any child would be mad to want to pass this kind of opportunity up.

Once they realized that such things were important, of course.

And now Link lay in his bed, his stomach in knots, his eyes bloodshot and baggy with anxiety, for tomorrow – or, rather, today – was the third stage in getting into the knight program at Skyloft Academy.

The first test was the written test: a grueling four-hour-long nightmare in the airy classrooms of the Academy. Link’s eyes, hands, and brain felt cramped and shriveled from torturous overuse, answering the repetitive problems of varying difficulty; from simple logic questions to long, wrung out equations that no sane individual could hope to conquer quickly or easily, much less both. Link had studied with Zelda for weeks until numbers and letters danced behind his eyes whenever he closed them. After the test, Link had gone straight home, bid an indignant Aepon good night, and climbed right into bed and slept for six hours.

At noon. 

The second test was of the sword and shield. Link and Zelda had practiced for that too, going over parries, lunges, swipes and shield bashes, going faster and faster each time until they were really dueling. With wooden swords, of course. They used to practice in the plaza, but Groose and his lackeys saw this as a wonderful opportunity to beat them with sticks, so Link and Zelda had abandoned the wide open space and took to more secluded areas.

The actual test, Link thought, went rather well. He had showed off his moves on a sack dummy in front of three judges: Instructor Owlan, Instructor Horwell, and Knight Commander Eagus. Then he was pitted against three Skyloft Knights of ranging difficulty, to see how well he fared. He recognized two of the knights as those who had tailed him and Zelda when he was younger, and he couldn’t help thinking they remembered him too.

At least, the painful bruises all over his body thought so.

Still, he hoped the Instructors and the Commander were impressed. He had trained hard for the evaluation and thought he’d pulled off some nice moves. 

But the third test was the one that Link was worried about, and what was keeping him awake when he should’ve been dreaming: the bird test. Contestants were required to fly through an aerial obstacle course on their Loftwings. Link had watched the older kids navigate through the course last year and he was not looking forward to it. The contestants had to pass through five red rings to pass, which sounded easy but was most definitely not. They had to fight their way through rock obstacles, floating bars and rods with spinning attachments to steer them sent adrift in the air by the Instructors, and pass through the hoops in a specific order. What was more, one of the rings was attached to the feet of a Guay, the trained crows of Instructor Horwell. They were a little bigger than Loftwings but twice as agile, often darting out of the pursuing birds’ reach.

And the contestants were timed.

Link turned over onto his side, feeling clammy. Honestly, he didn’t know if he could do it. He and Aepon were masters of the air, but they didn’t work together all that well. Usually Link just let Aepon do all the flying. How would Aepon be able to tell where to go at the trial? When Link did try to direct Aepon to somewhere specific, the experience left him dizzy and disoriented. He usually came out of it blinking hard and scratching his skin, quite sure that feathers were growing on its surface.

He’d tried to practice more times than he could count. He and Aepon had flown together the past few weeks more than they ever had in their lives, and for so long that when they were done Aepon collapsed where he landed and just lay on the ground. But every day yielded the same results. Whenever Link tried to take control, he was overwhelmed by the new sights and sounds and feelings Aepon experienced that humans did not. The feel of the wind rustling through feathers, the way the world seemed to slow down when they were moving fast, and, above all, the difference in their sentience. Aepon, and Loftwings in general, were incredibly smart, the smartest animals in the sky world. But they were still second class to humans. Link’s consciousness recoiled at delving too far into the simplified thoughts and wants and fears of Aepon’s mind. And so Link could only try his best to take control, but he withdrew quickly every time. He just couldn’t help it.

And he knew it was wearing for Aepon too. Aepon, Link could tell, was uncomfortable with his attempts to almost control his mind. Half the time he kicked Link out himself, not understanding what Link was trying to do.

Link wanted to ask one of the knights how they managed it, but the contestants were forbidden to bug someone about it, and the knights were forbidden to answer. No one could ever offer advice about bonding with their bird, because all bonds were different, just like all Loftwings were.

Zelda tried to offer help, but she didn’t have to try out for the knights until the next year, due to her few months’ difference in age. She wasn’t under the same kind of pressure. She was bewildered when Link tried to explain his attempts to control Aepon. “Why don’t you just try working with him?” she always asked. “Why do you have to control him?” The truth was that Link didn’t have much faith in Aepon doing anything efficiently. He was lazy and stubborn, preferring to do things his own way. Link had also seen him do some incredibly stupid things too, like randomly crashing into buildings or trying to eat extremely hot food from Link’s plate when he ate outside or _somehow_ getting his claws caught between the planks of a diving platform. It had taken a good ten minutes to free the dumb bird, and then he’d pecked at Link irritably, like it was _his_ fault.

A thin layer of light filtered through Link’s room, signaling the dreaded dawn. Link hated the sight of it. Well, of course he always hated the dawn (it meant he would have to get up soon) but today it brought a new flavor of distaste. The third trial was to begin a little after dawn, bright and early. Couldn’t be long now.

Just as Link thought this, the town bells began to clang.

Link buried his head in his pillows and whimpered.

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

The trials varied. Some did well. A lot did average.

Others failed. Miserably.

The whole town gathered in the plaza - making it rather crowded – to watch the flying tests. People had started reserving spectating spots since an hour or two before the show, and the earliest people claimed the benches on the edges for a nice close view. Everyone else had to make do with the remaining spots. People brought bottled drinks or soups to warm them on the chilly morning. Friendly conversation and jokes and laughter rose from the crowd. And when the tests started, everyone turned their attention to the sky.

Reactions were mixed. There were many “oooooh”s and “aaaaaah”s as they watched the birds and their owners soar through the air. There were many winces, like when they saw someone fall off their Loftwing or slam into a floating rock or, as one contestant did, _somehow_ get caught on the Guay’s talons and ripped off his bird to dangle in the air. The Guay in question had to be coaxed to the ground with treats, and the clumsy boy had to be cut free from the crow’s claws with a sharp knife. All the while the boy’s dusty brown Loftwing kept getting in the way, poking her beak in everyone’s faces and in general wondering why her partner was dangling from the claws of this strange black bird.

There was cause for a few good rounds of applause. One kid did exceptionally well, zipping through the course like a madman. He and his white bird shot through the rings like blank lightning. They messed up at the end, though, as the white bird clipped its wing on a floating pole and spiraled to the clouds a few hundred feet before leveling out again. They darted back up as quickly as they could, but the damage was done. They lost a serious amount of time, and lost points for it.

The contestants that didn’t go yet were grouped on the Light Tower above the plaza, watched over and started by Instructor Horwell. When it was someone’s turn, they jumped off the edge and called their bird; the second they landed on their bird, the trial began, as did the timer. It was rather crowded up there. Link and Fledge stood shoulder-to-shoulder, both nervous. Link wished desperately that he had used the bathroom before going up the Tower.

Groose and his lackeys did the course too, obviously. Strich went first, and he did reasonably well, save for a few penalties for flying headfirst into things. Cawlin’s Loftwing went completely in the wrong direction for some reason, and they only recovered quickly enough to beat Strich’s time by a few seconds. Groose and his blue Loftwing, Banon, did better then most, much to Link’s dismay. Their only flaw was the sheer mass of he and his bird combined; they were slow and clumsy in the sky, and kept doing stupid stunts in an attempt to impress the crowd. Many weren’t convinced. Still, he finished with one of the best times of the day. When Groose was done, he strutted like a bird under the Light Tower, waving cheekily at Link when he made the mistake of glancing down at him.

One by tedious one the kids jumped off the Light Tower, calling their birds and subjecting themselves to embarrassment in front of the whole town as they somehow messed up, either mildly or spectacularly. One kid somehow managed to slam into a floating pole and toppled off his bird. Another passed through the rings in the wrong order and had to start over again.

Finally it was Fledge’s turn. He stumbled to the edge, white-faced and shaking, and it didn’t seem like he heard when Link called to him, “Good luck.” He took three breaths to steady himself (likely a calming exercise a teacher had taught him) and dove over the edge. Link, who was next, peeked over to watch him.

Fledge called Nabooru quickly and they shot upwards to the first ring, which was anchored between two floating rods. Nabooru rose toward it, faster and faster, until at the last second she clasped her green wings to her body and passed through it. Link smiled wanly at his success. He was happy for Fledge, but terrified at the prospect that he was next. 

The next ring was attached to the top of a floating rock spire. Once again, Fledge and Nabooru shot through it and dashed to the next ring.

Then things went wrong. This ring was attached to a pair of slowly rotating poles. It wasn’t going very fast, but it was enough to spook Nabooru into veering away from it. She drifted in circles, confused, before it seemed Fledge steered her in the right direction. They danced around the spinning ring, hesitant to try going through, before Nabooru suddenly dove for the ring.

She hit it at a bad angle. The spinning ring’s side caught her and carried her around for a second before she forced herself through. Link winced. He knew they would get points off for that.

The fourth ring was attached to a pole that was designed to move back and forth. It wasn’t going very fast either, but Fledge and Nabooru slowed and seemed to puzzle it out before going for it. They got through with no trouble.

The last ring was attached to the talons of the Guay. Said Guay was very large and strong, but it was fast, too: the prize of Instructor Horwell. As Fledge and Nabooru neared it, the Guay veered away, trained as it was to avoid the contestants. Nabooru pumped her leafy green wings as hard as she could, but she was not a very strong flier. The Guay always managed to stay several yards in front of her.

Finally, after a long time of chasing, and with every agonizing second of Fledge’s time ticking away in Link’s head, Nabooru managed to veer herself through the ring. The crowd cheered as the two landed, and their time was read out. Link made a face. It wasn’t a very good time.

But then he paled as Instructor Horwell waved him forward. He shambled forward in a daze, heart pumping very fast, supplying his body with useless adrenaline. His legs shook and his arms trembled; he was not looking forward to embarrassing himself in front of the entire population of Skyloft.

Instructor Horwell gave him a tiny smile, then motioned for him to go on. Link’s stomach was twisted in convoluted knots. With a nauseous feeling in the back of his throat, he reached for the thunderstorm in his head and sent a message to Aepon: _Let’s go._

He felt Aepon’s eager acknowledgement. All day the Crimson Loftwing had been swooping around the obstacle course, curious and entranced. He had no idea what it was. Now Aepon circled underneath the edge of Skyloft, ready to catch Link.

Link teetered at the edge, afraid to try but afraid to give up. Finally Aepon’s enthusiasm and curiosity overran his mind. He let himself tip forward and fall.

And as he fell past the plaza, he heard one very familiar and welcome voice: _“LINK! Work with him!”_ Then he whipped past and was out of earshot. Twisting into the right position, he whistled as loud and as clearly as he could. Aepon came zooming out of nowhere and caught him.

He knew who had spoken and what she meant. But nothing Zelda said, Link thought, would make Aepon listen.

Once more Link tightened his grip on Aepon’s neck and tried to concentrate on controlling his movements. Immediately he could feel both bodies at once. He felt his tunic rubbing against his shoulders at the same time as he felt thick feather shafts growing out of them. He had fingers, clutching his bird’s neck; he had no fingers, but scores of bendable, unfeeling feathers. He had a mouth, breathing and bending; he had an unmoving beak that he could only open or close. Automatic nausea rose in his throat, and was matched by Aepon’s revulsion. He felt Aepon’s wingbeats falter, and they dropped a few feet. 

Suddenly Link was completely in his own body again, and Aepon was furiously tossing his head and rasping. The Crimson Loftwing had kicked him out again.

Link grit his teeth anxiously, aware of the crowd’s stares. “Aepon, stop it!” he hissed. Aepon shot an angry screech back, letting Link know that on no uncertain terms was he allowed to try that again.

_LINK!_

Aepon, confused as to what he should do, rose a little higher and circled while Link tried to steer him in the right direction.

_Work with him!_

At this rate, they were going to be in last place.

Link concentrated, pushing away all thoughts away from his head. He forgot the huge crowd watching his every move. He forgot that he had to get through this course in a set amount of time. He forgot all his past failures and unsuccessful attempts to control his bird.

He focused only on an image of the first ring of the course that they were supposed to go through. He focused on its shape and location and wrapped and layered it in feelings of urgency and importance; _this is priority,_ he was trying to emphasize. Then he figuratively shoved the image into the thundercloud in his mind.

Aepon drifted without moving for about ten seconds. Then he turned his head to the side and stared at the first hoop with one glittering, speculating eye. He stayed like this, and Link began to lose hope in both his friend and his bird.

And with an excited shriek, Aepon raised his wings high overhead and drove them down with such force that they shot upwards like a cannonball, aiming straight for the hoop. Link blinked the suddenly violent wind out of his eyes and- _Wait, where did the hoop go?_ he thought wildly, looking around. He saw the second hoop ahead and looked back. They had darted straight through the first ring already.

Aepon slowed and began a wide turn, thinking his task done. He looked back at Link with one eye and giving a little rasp, like he was asking, _How did I do?_

Link was frozen on his back, trying to process what had just happened. They were through the first hoop. They had done it with no trouble. Aepon had listened to him.

A delighted grin began to crawl on Link’s face.

_Let’s do this, Aepon._

Hardly daring to hope, he focused on the second hoop and sent it to Aepon again. Aepon shrieked in delight at this strange new game and rocketed forward, aiming straight for the ring on the rock and passing through it like it was nothing. Smile growing larger all the while until he was practically beaming, Link directed him to the third hoop, the one that spun. Aepon circled it once, then suddenly folded in his right wing and dove sideways through the ring flawlessly.

Link gave a delighted whoop as he sent the fourth ring’s image to his bird, and again Aepon shrieked at this new and strange challenge that was, for some reason, so important to his partner. He didn’t care; he thought it was all a very fun game. To Aepon, what was more fun than a test of flying ability and, judging from the urgency in his boy’s mind, speed? The fact that he was being watched only made him more excited. The Crimson Loftwing, and Loftwings in general, was a notorious showoff. 

Through the fourth hoop they went, disregarding its back-and-forth movement. There was only one ring left to tackle, and Link scanned the skies with his eyes for a distinctive black shape: the Guay.

He spotted it drifting about a hundred feet above and to the right of the general course. He gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on Aepon’s leather buckle collar; this was the most challenging task they had to face together. That Guay was huge, intimidating, and _fast._ Guays were smart, too, almost as smart as Loftwings.

Almost.

At Link’s direction, Aepon locked onto the great black bird high above. Link could read determined playfulness in his bird; the Crimson Loftwing had accepted this Guay as his target, and he was never going to let it out of his sight until he had completed his game and claimed the fifth ring. With a sky-splitting shriek that almost seemed to shake the clouds and made Link’s eardrums feel like razor talons were clawing them out, Aepon shot upward, prepared to chase and catch his prey.

They rocketed to the heavens, the wind screaming in their ears, both boy and bird determined to end this contest once and for all. Link’s anxiety and fear of being watched evaporated as they left the crowd in the dust. The two partners seemed to mold together and become one, and as one, they streaked toward the sun and the black dot that was in between them and it.

The Guay saw them coming. It beat its wings rapidly and rose to the side, the ring waving in its talons’ grasp. Aepon picked up his already breakneck speed and shot after it. The Guay bobbed out of their reach for about a minute, growing closer all the while, before it tipped forward into a dive. Aepon opened his wings and drove them back, aiming himself down and diving after the Guay with an extra burst of speed.

The wind screamed and whistled in Link’s pointed ears and threatened to rip him right off of Aepon’s back. It stung his eyes, forcing him to close them to slits. He could barely see anything. Was that green blur to his right Skyloft? Was that black blur waving in his vision the Guay? Was it just him, or was it getting closer?

Suddenly Aepon flared his wings open and caught the wind, yanking them back to a near standstill. The sky was deathly quiet in comparison to the gale from before. Aepon stilled his wings and drifted, his beats silent, his gaze riveted on something below him.

They were right over two floating boulders that were as big as houses. Aepon fluttered to one and landed, crouching, his wings held out for balance on the uneven surface. Link held himself low on his bird’s back, confused. He patted the feathers on the back of Aepon’s head. “What’re you doing, bud? We have to get that bird!” He nudged Aepon’s sides. “Come on!”

Aepon’s thoughts were a combination of impatience and giddiness. He shuffled at the edge of the rock, very tense, his head moving in excited little jerks. The closest thing Link could associate to his thoughts and behavior was when Link hid around a corner and jumped out at anyone who passed to scare them.

Rough wingbeats reached Link’s ears. He drew in a sharp breath and flattened himself against Aepon’s back. And as the Guay lazily rose over the side of the boulder, Link realized what Aepon was doing. The Guay had been so focused on diving out of their reach that it hadn’t noticed Aepon hide on the top of the rock. Thinking its pursuers gone, it had started flying up to its former position, circling over the obstacle course. That was just what Aepon was waiting for. And as the great black bird caught a glimpse of white and red to its side, and heard the Crimson Loftwing’s triumphant scream as he pounced for his prey, it realized its mistake. But it was too late.

And the only thing Link could do as they shot through the final ring, ended their time, and made themselves eligible for knighthood was laugh and laugh, because he realized that both he and the Guay had been outwitted by the Crimson Loftwing.

Raucous cheering met Link’s ears, and he was pretty sure he heard one shrill voice above all the others yell, _“You did it! You did it!”_

But Link didn’t listen to any of them. He knew, just like he knew that they were finished with the third trial, that they definitely hadn’t gotten the best time of the day at all, and that Groose had probably beaten them with his big clumsy bird. But he accepted it and was content with it, because he knew that was just the price he had to pay for being stupidly stubborn and underestimating Aepon. But he hoped that they had given the judges something worth remembering.

As he and his Loftwing turned and began to ascend toward Skyloft, both giddy and reeling from their separate and same success, he only had eyes and ears for his partner and one of his two best friends in the entire world. 

He leaned down and gave Aepon a big hug around his neck. The Crimson Loftwing glanced back and gave a happy rasp.

“When are you ever going to stop surprising me, Aepon?” Link asked, words half-mumbled from being buried in his bird’s blood-red feathers.

Aepon bucked his back a little and rasped again, as though to say, _Never._


	5. Aepon Gets a Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aepon gets a bath.

It was one of those times again.

Everyone knew that Loftwings were all different, all varying. Their likes, dislikes, faults, flaws, peeves, obsessions, and objects of affection changed from bird to bird, as different as feather color. One could love something as much as another loathed it. One could be friendly and another could be antisocial, save for its partner. One could be completely docile and another could be fiery and stubborn. One could be possessive of its partner and another could hardly care less if its partner almost hit the cloud layer.

One could have a taste for pumpkin while another could prefer the rare bit of Octorok meat. Some preferred specific colors to others. One might love to spend time with its partner and another might just want to be alone on certain days. One could dislike contact with its head or neck and another could allow any contact with any part of its body.

Baths were no different. All birds needed them at least once every few months to clear out excess debris they might have picked up while flying or stuck feathers that preening just couldn’t reach, no matter how hard the bird tried. The Skyloft Academy bathroom was rented out to any bird owner who needed to give their bird a bath, as it was the only water guaranteed to have warm enough temperatures for the Loftwings. It was the only time birds were allowed in the school.

And like everything, the opinion on the inevitable bath-taking process varied from bird to bird. Most Loftwings tolerated baths. It would sit or stand still as its partner poured water over its head and ran his or her fingers through its feathers to clean them. Then it would climb out and shake itself all over and allow its partner to dry it, as it was generally a bad idea for a wet Loftwing to go outside, where it might become extremely cold. 

A good few Loftwings absolutely _loved_ baths, and when they knew it was time for one they would all but drag their partner to the Academy. For some strange reason, these birds just loved wallowing in warm water. They would flap and splash their wings around, making a terrible mess, dipping their beaks in and out and making sure their entire body was soaked. The human barely had to do anything but try to stem the increasingly large and deep puddle the enthusiastic Loftwing was making on the clean bathroom floor.

Of course, on the opposite end of the spectrum, there were Loftwings that absolutely hated baths. They hated the feeling of water clogging their skin and drenching their feathers, making them sticky and heavy and unresponsive. They hated the freezing cold when they had to step out of the bath. They hated the water in general. They would fight the whole way to the bathroom, kicking and screaming and trying to fly away, as their partners would try to drag them inside. Then they would hunch over miserably, animosity and loathing boiling in every last recess of their minds as they were cleaned.

Unfortunately for Link, Aepon was one of the latter.

In fact, he was one of the worst.

At the merest sliver of a thought of a _mention_ of a bath, he was off, usually all day while he waited for Link to bribe him back down with pumpkin seeds, crumpled up pieces of paper, and a lot of head scratches. On the rare and lucky occasion Link actually managed to trick Aepon and pin his wings so he couldn’t fly away, the Crimson Loftwing fought as hard as he could to get away from the dreaded water. And if Link actually managed to get him into the bathroom and into the water, Aepon did not give up; he splashed and shrieked and became a fiery red missile, slamming into the walls of the room and trying to find a way out. It was a nightmare to try to handle.

Link had tried numerous times to get Aepon to understand that he _needed_ these baths, and that if Link had his way, he would never give his Loftwing one. Aepon stubbornly thought that Link was punishing him for something, or just being cruel. When he suspected he was getting a bath soon, he would act extra angelic to try and avert any feelings Link may have of the terrible, horrible, torturous process that was a trip to the bathtub.

Link usually enlisted Zelda’s help in capturing Aepon for the grueling experience. She could distract him with his favorite things as Link snuck up on him. She could pin Aepon’s wings with a rope like lightning and the Crimson Loftwing would never see it coming, as he had no connection to her, mental or emotional, save for the blatant affection Link had for her that had rubbed itself into Aepon. She could combine her rather surprisingly ample strength with Link’s to drag the struggling bird into the bathroom. And they could take turns holding Aepon down as the other drenched him with warm water. Despite all the stress and the unavoidable mess and the risk of being brained by a very large and very angry hydrophobic bird, they always found ways to laugh at the ridiculous pointlessness of what they were doing, and how hard it was despite how easy it could have been. Link began to wonder just how he had ever managed without Zelda. She was a lifesaver.

Zelda certainly wasn’t saving him now, though. She had come down with a bad case of sky flu, and had been bedridden in the Academy hospital for days now. Link stayed with her constantly, bringing her favorite books and games and joking and laughing with her and trying to ignore how frail she looked when her body shook with coughs. He stayed at her bedside all day and only left when he felt that Aepon was thinking of barging into another building to drag him out. The Crimson Loftwing knew that Zelda was sick and acknowledged that this was a bad thing, but he didn’t understand why Link stayed with her all the time. Link didn’t understand himself. He knew he was running a high risk of getting himself sick, too, but for some reason he didn’t care. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to stay with Zelda all day and develop strange pangs in his chest when he had to leave. Maybe he was becoming sick. He couldn’t imagine such feelings around his chest were natural.

So now Link stood alone, a thin rope in one hand and a slipping resolve in the other, in the middle of the plaza, looking around fruitlessly for someone to help him lasso the Crimson Loftwing.

He sighed. Maybe he should just wait until Zelda was better. Aepon could wait that long, couldn’t he? Were it not for the fact that the flying debris could cause extreme discomfort and pain if left unchecked, were it not for the fact that a bird with an uncleaned scratch on its skin could become infected due to its high exposure to all kinds of diseases in new and foreign places, were it not for the fact that Aepon’s feathers were beginning to become dull and thin and shaggy, Link would definitely have waited and saved himself the trouble and risk of decapitation. But he couldn’t.

He concentrated far away from the thundercloud in his head. He couldn’t risk Aepon figuring out that Link intended to give him a bath, not unless he wanted Aepon to fly to the other side of the world. Unfortunately, this also left him unaware of where his bird was at all. Was he on the ground or in the air? Was he near Skyloft or somewhere completely different? With no way of knowing Link wandered through the town, passing curious people who took one look at his lost expression and the rope in his hand and took off, passing the Bazaar and the plaza, passing countless houses.

A flash of crimson around the corner of a house with purple walls. Link groaned and covered his eyes. _Not again._

Link jogged up the hill, trying to hide the rope he carried to any eyes that might be watching, to the roof of the purple-walled house. Through experience, yelling, and angry people chasing him down for their ruined crops, he knew there was a small pumpkin patch on top of this house, and it was frequently visited by a certain pumpkin-loving red Loftwing.

Sure enough, Aepon was atop this house, tearing apart a pumpkin with his talons and beak and crunching down the seeds and flesh of the fruit blissfully. He was facing away from Link and it didn’t look like he had noticed his partner, which was good, because if he had then he would’ve seen the rope. Link immediately hid the rope behind his back and said loudly, “Hey! You’re not allowed up here!”

Aepon glanced up at him, still gorging himself on the pumpkin, but didn’t seem too concerned. 

Link walked over and shoved his bird, muttering, “You dumb bird, do you know how many times you got me in trouble for stealing pumpkins? Get _off!”_ He finished his rant with a mighty shove; Aepon dug his talons into the ground and leaned against Link, a low rasp sliding out of his full beak in irritation.

Link’s frustration, combined with the stress of knowing he would have to drag this giant, clawed, hook-beaked bird across town while he was struggling with all his might, was too much for his frail mental concentration to handle. He could feel himself thinking of all the dread that came with having to give this bird a bath, and unfortunately for him, Aepon felt it too.

Abruptly Aepon straightened up, frozen, staring at Link unblinkingly, gooey pumpkin guts still hanging wetly out of his beak. Then he whirled around and spread his wings, and before Link could take out his rope and restrain him, he was off, flying up and away as fast as his red wings could take him. 

“Come back!” Link yelled fruitlessly, waving his arms. It was too late; Aepon was now a tiny red shape in the distance as big as his hand. Link watched as the Crimson Loftwing stopped flying and began to drift in lazy circles far away from Skyloft. The thundercloud simply radiated a feeling of, _How dare you interrupt my pumpkin snatching with my least favorite thing._

Link groaned, rubbing his eyes. Maybe he should just give up for today. He could go eat something, have lunch . . . he could go visit Zelda! The thought made him automatically smile. He would tell her all about his attempt to catch his bird without her, and she would laugh at him but he wouldn’t mind, and maybe he should bring her some lunch too, try to think of funny things today that would make her smile. . . .

Link wasn’t aware that he was standing there like a lump, smiling dreamily, but he was brought sharply back to his senses when something shoved him hard in the shoulder from behind. It shoved him again and he turned. Behind him was a gray-and-gold female Loftwing, nuzzling him with her beak and sticking her head into his face. She had a tuft of gray feathers shaped like a forked tongue on the back of her head, and her collar was a simple rope, like the one Link carried.

“Hey, Ebirda,” Link said, smiling, obliging the Loftwing and scratching the back of her skull. She tilted her head and closed her eyes in bliss. Ebirda was notorious for running up to strangers and shoving herself into their personal spaces to get a headscratch. She usually lurked around the plaza, going up to random citizens and putting her head on their shoulders or the tops of their heads. If someone were sitting on a bench she would even get onto the bench herself and shamelessly lie across their laps, begging for pets and attention. She flew very rarely, and only in an emergency. She was undoubtedly the cuddliest Loftwing on Skyloft, and brought her partner, a Skyloft Knight named Ospren, great embarrassment.

“If only Aepon was as nice as you,” Link said, rubbing the back of Ebirda’s thin neck. It was common knowledge that Ebirda was one of the Loftwings who loved baths and would drag Ospren across Skyloft to the Academy. It was pretty much the only time she ever abandoned her attention-seeking scratch-pleading vigil around town. One just had to say the word “bath” and she was off.

A crazy plan began to bubble in Link’s head. He wondered idly for a minute if it would work, and if it was worth it, but then he shook his head and straightened up. He was a Skyloft Knight (in training), wasn’t he? Weren’t Knights supposed to be honorable, clever, and resourceful? Was that not what this was? Shouldn’t a Knight be able to take on any opponent? How could he face Groose, or the sky pirates, or warring sky civilizations (if that ever happened; the sky was primarily peaceful) if he couldn’t take on his own Loftwing?

“Hey, Ebirda?” Link started cautiously. The golden gray Loftwing didn’t move, except to open her eye halfway to look at Link lazily. Link sent a mental message to Aepon; no specific thought, just a signal to pay attention. He felt Aepon’s curiosity piqued against his will. “Want a _bath?”_

At the word Ebirda whipped her head out of Link’s hands and stood stock-still, an exact mirror of what Aepon had done in reaction to the same word but, Link knew, with the opposite mindset. It didn’t matter that Link wasn’t Ospren; if someone said the word, basically the only human word she knew, she wasn’t asking any questions.

She whirled around, about to run like a Remlit straight to the Academy, but before she could lift a foot Link sent a silent prayer to the Goddess and jumped on her back.

There were few things as terrifyingly thrilling as this. Ebirda, confused but still wanting a bath more than anything, ran like the wind down the hill and between houses as Link clung to her neck, trying desperately not to fall off. The grayish gold feathers Link was lying on were alien to Link, used to as he was to crimson, and Ebirda’s back was somewhat wider than Aepon’s since she didn’t fly or exercise nearly as much. Link saw confused faces staring through windows, between houses, and working on gardens or painting walls, all staring at this hollering kid bouncing on the back of Skyloft’s resident cuddlebird that was running like her tailfeathers were on fire.

As Ebirda broke out of the houses and began to cross the bridge, Link clinging to her the whole way, a bloodcurdling screech rent the air. Link heard madly beating wings pounding above him and looked up. The Crimson Loftwing, furious, was chasing them from the air, so enraged was he that this different Loftwing dared to steal his partner.

Into the plaza Ebirda ran, her nails scrabbling on the cobblestones and Aepon screeching at her heels and trying to gore her from above with his talons. It was a busy day in the plaza, unfortunately for the frantic Link. People dove out of the way as Ebirda and Aepon tore through their midst. Link was pretty sure Ebirda had bowled a few people over. Angry and confused yells met Link’s ears.

They broke through the crowds in the plaza and passed the Bazaar, Aepon getting closer all the way and Ebirda becoming more and more aware that she was being chased. People abandoned their places in line to goggle at the sight as they shot past.

Up the steps they ran, past bewildered students and Knights alike. Link even thought he saw Ospren out of the corner of his eye, staring, with no idea what was going on. Then Link’s heart sank; they were at the bottom floor of the Academy, and the bathroom was on the second floor. Before he had time to be truly despairing, however, Ebirda spread her wings, jumped, and fluttered to the bridge leading to the top floor, landing right in front of the doors.

Link slid off her back, his legs turned to jelly with the thrill of being chased by a bird on the verge of murder, and shoved her out of the way as Aepon came screaming out of the sky. He landed near Link and crouched in front of him, hissing savagely, spreading his wings out to defend his partner.

Quick as lightning, Link pinned the Crimson Loftwing’s wings to his sides with his arms, kicked the doors open, and dragged his bird inside. The last thing he saw before the doors closed was Ebirda, tilting her head at him sadly, looking like she was wondering why he wasn’t giving her a bath after all. Link vowed that after this was over he would hunt down Ospren and ask him what Ebirda’s favorite food was.

The Academy was still and quiet compared to the chaos outside. Aepon didn’t seem to realize where he was yet, which was most likely the only reason Link was still alive. The Crimson Loftwing kept his eye on the door, hissing lowly, ready to defend Link should anything try to steal him again, be it bird or beast or human being. Link dragged him across the hallway, opened the bathroom door, and dragged them both in. He released Aepon and shut the door firmly and locked it.

Only now did Aepon realize what was happening. He screamed loud enough to rattle the window in its frame and threw himself at the door, beating his wings and filling the bathroom with his red feathers. Link turned on the faucets and ran the water, making it warm-hot and praying for everything from his good health to his physical welfare should he come out of this alive.

When the bath was full of lightly-steaming water (which took much too long for a desperate human boy who was continuously in danger of being brained) and Link had let it cool a little (which took even longer), and he had taken his boots and socks off and rolled the legs of his pants up (which he always did), he turned and faced Aepon. The Crimson Loftwing was crouched in the far corner near the door, his breast heaving as he breathed hard, his feathers slicked down with indignation, fury, and dread, making him look very skinny and bony. He hissed as Link approached with arms outstretched. “Hey, buddy,” Link said as gently as he could, noting right now at this particular moment that Aepon was so much _bigger_ than him, “want to take a _nice_ and _relaxing_ swim?” He sent feelings of goodwill and contentment and comfort and warmth as strongly as he could, without tripping from lack of concentration, into the thundercloud, which was roiling with stress.

Aepon remained frozen until Link’s fingers were almost touching his neck. Then he shrieked and threw himself to the side, away from this cruel, cruel boy that would inflict upon him the horror of water. Link’s patience ran thin, and he lunged after his bird, trying to grab his collar, his beak, anything. Despite his immense size and the tiny area of the bathroom not taken up by the tub, the Crimson Loftwing managed to stay out of Link’s reach for a creditable amount of time, frustrating his partner but ignoring it in favor of being terrified of the bath, which swelled above all other priority in his mind.

Link finally managed to trap his bird between himself and the tub, spreading his arms wide to block any escape route. Aepon bobbed and weaved his head, trying to look for somewhere to slip through, but Link moved in front of every attempt. He began to move slowly forward, driving his bird back, riding on the hope that even in the Crimson Loftwing’s fear-induced franticness, he would never actually push or hurt Link, intentionally or no. Aepon took tiny steps back, and uttered a tiny panicked rasp when he had to put one of his huge clawed toes into the water.

Suddenly he flared his wings open and shrieked in Link’s face, showing off his vivid plumage. The bright red feathers on his wing arms and the flashing white, purple, and gold on the ends of his flight feathers filled the space, creating a dizzying mosaic of living color. Link jumped, a little startled, but held his ground after identifying what Aepon was doing. He was deploying his final defense, the last attempt to escape his fate: he was trying to assert his dominance and intimidate Link out of the way through noise and color.

Aepon screamed for an unnaturally long time, like the last resentful wail of a dying animal in denial. When he finally clacked his hooked beak shut just inches from Link’s nose he had to gasp for breath. Link’s ears rang from the sheer volume and closeness of the noise, and he wondered how many people could hear, and if they thought he was torturing his bird or something. But he didn’t turn or slip in his concentration to check. He stared down the pale yellow-brown bill of his bird without a waver or a doubt. He was not one to be pushed around anymore. He was tired, he was thirsty and hungry, his ears hurt, his legs and arms hurt from shoving and chasing and riding birds around all day, and he did not feel like being trifled with.

All was unnaturally quiet for about ten seconds as bird and boy stared each other down.

Then Link placed both hands on his Loftwing’s shoulders and shoved him backwards, hard, into the bathtub.

Aepon stumbled back with an indignant squawk, losing his balance and falling partway under the water. He tried to jump back up, shaking as though he could shoo the droplets away, but Link stepped into the water carefully with his bare feet and legs and held him down, trying not to get the rest of himself wet. Aepon whipped his neck to the side, thrashed his tail once, and finally – _finally_ – allowed Link to shove his body into the water.

Link held his head as he guided Aepon into a crude crouching position that had his chest semi-submerged and his tail, wings, and legs completely under the water. The entire time Link’s head was overflowing with thoughts not his own, thoughts that rebounded throughout his head that basically consisted of a combination of misery, loathing, disgust, and accusation. They were incredibly distracting, and doubled his own frustration. “Sorry, buddy,” he said, patting Aepon’s miserable head and standing back up. “You brought it on yourself.” 

He made sure Aepon was staying put and stood, looking himself over to make sure his clothes were all dry, and turned to step out of the tub, eyeing the bucket on the floor he always used to wash his bird’s head. He was halfway out when the resentfully smoldering thundercloud suddenly sparked with sickly yellow mischief, the same shade as when Aepon had burst into the Academy five years ago, the same shade as when the Crimson Loftwing intentionally knocked something over for Link to clean up, the same shade as when he felt so very proud of himself for some reason.

Link had barely a second to register the sudden change in Aepon’s mind when he felt a ferocious tug on the back of his shirt as something yanked him backwards. He teetered on his feet, pinwheeling his arms wildly, his heart in his throat, before he fell on his back into the water.

There was a moment of swishing, muted silence, brought on by the bathwater that flooded Link’s pointed ears. He choked out a bubble of air and thrashed upwards, wondering bewilderedly why the bath suddenly seemed so deep. His head broke the surface and he lay there for one stunned second, sputtering, taking in the sensation of having his clothes _completely_ drenched, and then whirled around.

Aepon was crouched in the back of the tub, bobbing his head and swishing his tail. His already-drenched wings were half-spread in a heart shape, and he was practically wiggling with glee. 

“Aepon!” Link yelled, blinking in disbelief. “I’m going to _drown you!”_

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

Link didn’t actually end up drowning Aepon, though he jokingly tried. Link was dripping wet from head to toe, even more wet than his bird (who he was supposed to be bathing in the first place). Aepon wound up thinking himself so clever for giving Link his own little bath that he didn’t sound a single complaint as Link scrubbed him. Link didn’t bother being gentle, either; the waves of pride and glee radiating from his bird chased away all notions of kindness he would’ve had earlier.

Once Link had succeeded in completely cleaning Aepon’s feathers, skin, scales, and nails, he sat up, ran a hand through his sodden hair dejectedly, and stood, stretching his sore back. Aepon perked up, long since bored with what was going on, and stood up as well, shaking out his tail and spraying the wall with water. His outer bright red feathers were matted together in disheveled clumps, and his darker downy feathers were visible, covering him like a maroon skin. Even the dense tuft of feathers on the back of his head was flattened and stuck to his skull, and his white cheek-tufts were thin and flimsy. Without the normal puffiness of his coat of red, he was extremely skinny and bony and angular. The first time Link had given him a bath and seen him like this, he had been horrified and thought that he’d been neglecting his poor, thin bird, and had showered him with all kinds of food until someone had told him it was normal for birds to be that skinny.

Aepon ran the hooked tip of his beak through the wrist of his left wing and apparently found that he could barely move his feathers back into their proper positions. He rasped irritably, beating his wings but gaining absolutely nothing from it, no turbulence and no pressure. The smell of wet feathers swirled about the room.

Link turned at the sound of the door opening and saw Pipit’s curious face. “Hey, Link,” he said, looking around the puddled room. “Giving old Aepon a bath? That must’ve gone as well as usual.”

Link was about to reply when with an excited squawk Aepon hopped out of the tub and dashed for the door, leaving a trail of airborne water droplets in his wake. Pipit dove out of the way with an alarmed yell as the wet bird launched himself through the door and sprinted to the exit. 

Link heard more shouts, and ran out the door after his runaway Loftwing, his boots making a wet squelching sound with every step and his matted hair almost blocking his vision. He saw Aepon slam into the double doors and bust them open. The Crimson Loftwing shrieked with freedom and sprinted out, raising his wings to the wind and ignoring Link’s cries of, “Wait wait wait, _I still have to dry you!”_

The normally warm air of Skyloft blasted Link like a frigid gale of wind when he stepped outside, and he shivered involuntarily. Aepon had just passed through the gates on the far side of the second-floor bridge and was trotting on his merry way down the wide wooden stairs that faced the Bazaar, drawing confused stares as to why a skinny, drenched Crimson Loftwing was running around. Link knew that Aepon knew that he could barely fly right now, but he wasn’t going to stand another minute of partner-induced bath-brought-on torture, and was going to dry off by himself.

Link groaned and rubbed his face with both hands. He knew, he just knew, that everyone would be talking about his little stunt with Ebirda for agonizing _days._

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

The next day Link woke up shivering and sweating, with a ferocious cough.

He was sicker than a Remlit, and sneezing just as much as one. His esophagus felt like it was tearing itself apart every time he coughed or spoke, and he constantly had to clear his throat. A crackling noise sounded from his lungs whenever he breathed, and his brain felt like it was trying to pop right out of his skull to die a flaming death.

He was immediately admitted to the Academy hospital. All it took was a glance from the doctor to diagnose sky cold, brought on by overexertion, stress, exposure to a sick patient, and being outside soaking wet.

As miserable as Link felt, he cheered up considerably when he saw who his hospital roommate was.


	6. Nice Day!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life of Aepon.

Sky. 

Sky. Sky. 

Cloud. Cloud. Get cloud! Cloud important, want to _chase!_

Getting closer. Cloud can’t escape. I’m good at flying. I’m fast. My wings are strong.

Cloud right in front of me. Can’t see it. Position all wrong, eyes all right. Come back, cloud. Want to chase. Want to catch.

Tired.

Was dreaming?

I was dreaming. Fun dream. Can’t remember it now. Doesn’t matter. Hungry. Want to eat. Want meat. Want funny soup. Want favorite spicy fruit. Spicy fruit. Spicy fruit. Spicy fruit. Spicy fruit. Want spicy fruit now. Spicy fruit.

Am missing something.

Forgot to preen. Feathers feel bad. Twisted and matted and not right. Spicy fruit later. Preen now.

Takes a while.

Feathers feel nice again. I look nice. I am very nice looking.

Still missing something.

Feel little bump in head start moving. My ONE is awake! I’m going to see him. I love my ONE. Going to see him. Love my ONE.

Flying now. Really flying, not dreaming. Don’t want to chase clouds. Clouds not interesting. ONE is interesting. Want to take him flying. He likes it. Want to make him happy.

Feathers feel nice. Good preen. Feathers respond good, turn good, flex good. Hungry. Not very fast because I’m hungry. Eat food and I’ll fly better. 

Tired when I land on big green mound where ONE lives now. I open my beak and scream. Come here, ONE. Want to go in and get him, but everyone gets mad at me if I do. Come, ONE. Want to eat. Want to fly with you. Make you happy today.

Little ones come out. Not my ONE. Other birds’ ones. Not my ONE. Want my ONE.

Blue-purple-good-bird comes and lands next to me. Starts preening me. Never enough preening. Feathers mussed again. Bad flying. Need to eat. Need ONE to come out.

Blue-purple-good-bird very messy. Bad at preening. I do for him. He’s bad at preening. Like little hatchling. I do for him. Like him. Good bird to be around.

Little bump in head moves again. I see me from below. ONE is down there! I leave blue-purple-good-bird. I jump down. _GOOD MORNING!_

He gives me good scratchins. Love scratchins on head and ears. Feels good. Feels so good. I do same for him, but he doesn’t like it. I like his feathers. Very soft. Always mussed, but very soft. Fun to play with. He gets mad at me when I do. Fun to play with. Fun to run beak through. Can’t scratchins on him, though. Very fragile little head.

Gives me good treat. So good! Love little treat. Tastes like spicy fruit but stronger. And meat too. Maybe bad-rock-sponge meat.

I shove him and crouch. He can get on my back easier that way. I’m smart. I know this. I’m a smart bird. He can get on easier that way.

He jumps on. Legs used to be weak. Couldn’t hold him up well. Now legs strong. Like wings. Legs strong now. I’m very strong.

I take off. Not flying well. Hungry. Tired easily. Don’t want to fly now. Want to eat. Flying tiring. Chest hurts, arms hurt.

See lots of spicy fruit! Lots and lots! Want lots! So hungry now. So tired. Want food. I go down for the fruit.

ONE starts saying the BAD WORD, and I feel him through the roiling bump in my head. I feel him thinking bad things and sad things if I eat the spicy fruit.

But I want the spicy fruit. . . .

But I don’t want ONE mad at me. . . .

Then ONE thinks of his food, and letting me have it. I get excited. I love eating his food. So interesting. So different. Fun to try. Fun to try different things.

He thinks I can’t have his food if I eat the spicy fruit.

I turn away.

We land at the big moss mound and he goes inside. Wings and chest hurt. Very very very very very very hungry now. Want food. Feeling sick. Want food. Don’t want to fly. Flying not worth being hungry.

ONE comes back out with ONE’s dearest one. I wonder when they’re having young. Maybe not old enough. Spends all time with her. When not with me. Spends all time with her.

Has food in his hands. WANT FOOD. Almost bite him in haste to eat food. Sweet, sour, spicy, flat, rough, cold, hot. Lots of different foods. Some taste bad. A lot taste good. Eat for good food. Love good food.

Eat fast. Stomach full now. ONE brought a lot. More than hands could fill. Lots of food. Tastes good. Stomach full now.

Can go fly now! Feel like energy-filled. Want to fly. Want to make ONE happy and feel fun. I love my ONE. Love my ONE.

ONE on my back. We go flying now! ONE’s dearest one comes with us on blue-purple-good-bird. Fun to fly! Show lots of tricks today. Maybe we dive. Maybe we just skim. Not fun to fly. Normal to fly. Fun to make ONE fly.

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

Tired now.

We rest now. Day almost over. We flew all day. Tired now. Ate more food Feathers all mussed. Have to preen. Maybe I’ll preen blue-purple-good-bird too. Maybe. Very tired. Kind of want spicy fruit.

See dark shape. I hiss. I see dark-purple-bad-bird. Dark-purple-bad-bird’s one is the BADBADBAD HURTER. He comes and hurts my ONE. Hate him. Want to bite him. Want to tear him. But ONE always makes me stay away. Only fight and bite and scratch when BADBADBAD HURTER is cornering ONE.

I see BADBADBAD HURTER. I stand up. Don’t want him to come closer. Hate him. Hate his bigness. Hate his bad face. Hate his feathers. Hate that they’re the same color as me. Not like me at all. I like my color. Best color ever. HURTER can’t touch my color. I want to bite his color right off. Maybe scratch his head. Yes. Scratch his big head. And not scratchins either. The bad kind of scratch. The bleeding kind.

BADBADBAD HURTER makes noises at us. ONE’s dearest one makes noises back. Displaying, maybe. Hope she doesn’t become his mate. ONE should be her mate. They make each other happy. Used to be jealous. I like her now. But I won’t like her if she becomes HURTER’s mate.

HURTER moves away. So does dark-purple-bad-bird. Hate them. Want them to go away and never come back. Hate seeing them. Me and bad-bird hiss and fuss if we see each other. He doesn’t like me because I want to hurt his one. I don’t like him because he tries to stop me.

They’re gone now.

Tired now.

ONE and I go to big moss mound. He holds my head with his arms. Strange thing, this. Little arm-circle-thingy. He does it to his dearest one a lot. He does it to me a lot. Used to think it must hurt. Actually feels good. I try to do it too, sometimes, but I always knock my ONE over. Oops.

ONE goes inside. I’m sad. I’ll see him tomorrow.

I fly up to a cave where I sleep sometimes. Tuck my right leg up. Use right wing as head perch for tonight. Close eyes.

I miss my ONE. Whenever he’s not around. I miss him. Want him to sleep here with me. Or go to where he sleeps. Not allowed. No Loftwings allowed.

He misses me too. I feel through the bump in my head. We miss each other.

I’ll see him tomorrow.

Eyes closed.

See him tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

In the sky.

Sky.

Sky. Sky.

Clouds. 

Chase cloud. Have to catch cloud.

Chase cloud.


	7. No Loftwings Allowed

**_No Loftwings Allowed_ **

Link had been afraid many times in his life.

There was that one time, when he had been six or seven, when he had toddled outside after sunset. All children and adults were cautioned against doing such a foolish thing, as Skyloft at night was damned with nightmarish creatures. Chus, the jelly-monsters, slid through the grass like water drops on a glass pane, latching onto the legs and feet of unsuspecting wanderers and slowly dissolving their flesh with acid. Keese, the huge, bloodthirsty breed of bat, would go into a lusty frenzy for blood if they spied an uncovered neck. Worst of all, one of the most beloved pets in the sky would undergo a violent transformation: every Remlit on Skyloft would turn yellow-eyed, sharp-fanged, and indescribably vicious, turning on their former humans with a voracious fury.

Every demon that dwelled in the dark came out to play under the scarred moon, and every man who was foolish enough to walk among them found himself dancing with death. Link had wandered out there, a defenseless boy with no protection, and almost gotten killed. One minute he was running over the bridge, gaping at the entrancing way the moon flickered on the water below, and the next he was staring into a pair of yellow eyes, feral and bloodthirsty. Another and another joined it, until there were a dozen, all gliding toward him through the grass. Link simply stood there, staring, unable to move himself. A passing Knight snatched him up and booted him inside, but he would never forget that night, and his helplessness.

There was that other time, when he was nine, when he had overheard talk that the Headmaster had to travel to another far-off village to make peace negotiations, and that he was taking Zelda. Somehow Link got it into his head that they would never come back, and when the next day he could not find Zelda, he panicked. He ran through the streets, calling her name and sobbing unashamedly, until he found her feeding her Remlit kitten Mia in her father’s study, having not left at all. He ran to her and refused to let go of her for a long while, crying into her arms and begging, “Please don’t leave, please, you’re my best friend, please don’t ever leave me.”

Then, of course, there was the time his new Loftwing had almost killed him by refusing to catch him until he whistled.  _That_  wasn’t exactly something one laughed over and forgot.

But no experience, no panic, no terror could compare to the blind, unknowing fear of injury, and one dealt through protection to himself. And as Link held his bird’s head on his lap, the sun unbearably hot and the grass parched and yellow beneath him, as Aepon gasped for air and rasped in frightened pain, blood matting his feathers, he realized he had never been so scared in his entire life.

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

It was a beautiful day for flying, Zelda had decided that morning, and so of course Link had to decide so too. It was out of the question for Zelda to go flying and neglect to invite Link, and it was folly for Link to even think of refusing, and so his plans for the day were sealed even before he had woken. One minute he was sound asleep and dreaming under the warm, comfortable covers, and the next some cruel soul had ripped them off, leaving his body to be assailed by the relatively frozen air. He hunched into a ball, moaning in displeasure and weak protest at whoever had torn his waking dreams asunder.

“Time to get up, Link, it’s a beautiful day today!” he heard Zelda’s voice say cheerily. It was so high pitched. Why was her voice so high pitched? Why did she have to talk so loud? “Aepon’s waiting for you outside! He wants to go flying!”

Link made an irritated noise in the back of his throat, like a whining child.

He heard Zelda sigh. “Oh come on, Link, you’re fifteen. You don’t need to sleep so much anymore!”

“Yes I do,” he mumbled into his pillow, realizing belatedly that she probably hadn’t heard him. He couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Come on, the Knights just cleaned out the rock belt near the Hand Spire! There’s no Octoroks anymore, we can go flying there again!”

Octoroks, sky squids, were hideous creatures that latched themselves onto sky boulders like shellfish to an underwater surface, and it was nearly impossible to dislodge them once they had settled in. As ducruors, or plant-animal hybrids, they lived by photosynthesis, and extracted calcium from rocks to use to reinforce the bony armor on their heads.

Their flesh was a good source of food, and they were not predators, but they were one of the most dangerous creatures in the sky. Their fleshy roots dug into the rock and extracted not just nutrients for itself, but also nuggets of stone that it stored and used as ammunition if something threatened it, shooting them through their mouths. The bigger the creature was, the larger the pellets it could spit. Some huge ones had been known to kill full-grown Guays and down a Loftwing once or twice. They had to be exterminated every once in a while for Skyloft’s protection.

When he didn’t respond she said, “Don’t make me drag you out of bed, Link. Actually, I’ll let Aepon in here and _he’ll_  drag you out of bed.”

Link slowly propped himself up on his elbow and stared at her blearily. He could only make out a fuzzy pink shape by his bed, and that was all. “You wouldn’t,” he slurred.

“I would, and you know it,” she sniffed.

“You’d get in  _trouble_.”

“My father’s the  _headmaster,_  Link,” she said exasperatedly. “I can get out of anything. Besides, he’d probably understand. Now come on, come on, you’re wasting daylight! There’s a lot of thermals out, I know you and Aepon love those.”

The prospect of thermals did perk Link up somewhat. The columns of hot air, brought about by sunlight baking the ground and heat rising, made an excellent, energy-saving way to get very high. When flying with Zelda, whose bird was not a very good flier, this came in especial handy. Besides this, Aepon liked to mess around with thermals, darting into them and spinning out just as fast, warbling with delight.

But he was reluctant to accept that she had indeed persuaded him that easily, and made sure to drag his feet as he accompanied her out the door. Aepon had, in fact, been waiting outside and he was walking in circles impatiently; when he saw Link he crooned in delight and tried to run the hook of his beak through his human’s hair. Link shoved him away playfully, as much to kid as to prevent a scalp injury.

Nohan was waiting outside as well, though in a noticeably less twitchy manner. He stood patiently as Zelda fixed his gold-disk collar, made to match her favorite belt, keeping his head close so she could conveniently reach up and scratch his cheek.

Link struggled to emulate her, but Aepon was less compliant. He danced from foot to foot in eagerness; he watched Link with a critical and impatient eye, and kept interrupting Link getting his harness ready by shoving his face into his human’s field of view. Eventually Link just shoved the great head away, and flicked it every time it sought to distract him again.

At last he vaulted himself onto Aepon’s back. Gone was the tiny creature that had first come for him under the shadow of the Goddess; Aepon was a mighty and powerful beast, capable of virtually endless flights and extraordinary feats of strength; as if this wasn’t enough to solidify his status as a true guardian, he was over seven feet tall and bright red, brighter than five years ago, and his white flight feathers were cleaner and more vivid than they had ever been in his life. He was a creature made for living at the top, a flying machine. Link wrapped his arms around his Loftwing’s neck and felt an abrupt wave of pride. How lucky he was to have this bird!

Zelda skipped gaily to the nearest platform and leapt off sideways, shooting a goofy face at Link, eyes crossed and tongue stuck out, before gravity stole her from his view. A sharp whistle floated up; Nohan trotted leisurely to the edge and stepped out into the open air, and he was gone too.

Aepon was rather less majestic. He squawked in mock rage at seeing his friend disappear and bounded to the platform, Link hanging on for dear life on his back. He threw himself off with one wing half-spread, causing them to spin and careen as they fell like a twirling piece of paper. The wind, formerly silent and gentle, picked up to a wailing howl and tore at Link’s clothes as they plummeted to the cloud layer, so far below, and the packed earth of Skyloft blurred past.

Link felt himself sliding off the right side of Aepon’s back and held on tighter, rolling his watering eyes. The big bird wasn’t truly out of control, for if he was then Link would scarcely be acting so nonchalant; Aepon sometimes liked to let himself spin and fall, subject to gravity and all its terrifying splendor, disregarding the possible comfort and peace of mind of his passenger. Link would pay him back later, perhaps in the form of ignorance or denied head scratches.

Aepon tumbled end over end until he was facing the ground, his legs and tail trailing behind him as he plummeted. He raised both of his wings slowly, becoming horizontal again little by little, and at a tremendous speed. Link could feel the flesh of his face sliding backwards, baring his teeth and watering his eyes, and knew he must have looked ridiculous. He hoped Zelda wasn’t close enough to see him.

Aepon leveled off just above the cloud layer, skimming it with his talons and rising. This move was a tiring one to accomplish; whatever exhilaration and awe it inspired was repaid tenfold later in the form of a horrifically sore chest and wings, which unfortunately made Aepon miserable enough that his pain was easily felt through his bond with Link. Link sighed, and resigned himself to an uncomfortable day tomorrow.

Nohan was circling high above, and Aepon shot straight up to meet him. They twirled about each other like leaves caught in the wind. Link could hear Zelda’s laughter at their two Loftwings, and the playfulness they felt on this fine warm day. The sun was shining, the birds were frisky and full of energy, and Link was sailing through the air with his three greatest friends.

They played among the thermals for a while, laughing gaily and holding mock-contests over who could hover the longest, or turn the tightest circle, or dive most vertically. Nohan was not a strong flier, and so Aepon won most of the contests. Link’s and Zelda’s faces were flushed and aching from smiling so much; they hadn’t had this much fun in days, and Link felt, silently of course, that he didn’t want to spend this day with anyone but her.

To rest, they set Skyloft to their backs and flew to the Hand Spire, a huge tower of rock that resembled a twisted arm with an oversized hand at the end, and drifted among the floating islands and rocks that hung suspended in the air in random clusters, admiring the differences in each one. The larger ones were disk-shaped and motionless, made of soil, and were usually covered in grass. The smaller ones were mostly rounded rock pieces, spinning and rotating with the wind. Their surfaces were rough and craggy, and hazardous to land on. What grass grew from them was sparse and brown, and lived only in tiny nooks and crevices.

Aepon and Nohan swooped through them at a leisurely pace, hardly beating their wings, drifting in circles at times but always staying close enough so that their two partners could hear each other. Link and Zelda yelled across the sky at each other, making observations and jokes. And laughing. They were always laughing.

Link leaned his head in his hand and watched Zelda. She looked about the world with such joy, and it rubbed off on him. Alone they were normal, functioning members of society, capable of thinking and socializing. Together they became a giggling, yelling, wrestling mess, always stumbling into one another and making faces at each other. Their teachers had even separated them in class after learning that they got absolutely no schoolwork done when in the same room.

Nohan swooped under a boulder and Zelda laughed, kissing the back of her bird’s head. Link smiled. She was so happy about everything, so full of life and love. When she saw those she cared for her face lit up, and a delighted smile spread across her mouth, and her eyes glowed bright blue. It appeared whenever she saw Nohan, or her father, or especially Link.

Link’s heart twitched. He froze, puzzled, but it seemed normal again. He began watching Zelda again and his heart skipped a beat once more. He sat up, averting his eyes, hoping Zelda hadn’t seen him watching her.  _Don’t know what that’s about,_  he thought to himself.

Aepon crooned, delighting in the warm air. Link tousled the feathers on the back of his head, chuckling. Aepon could easily fly these parts on his own, but he refused to leave Skyloft much without his boy. Link had once wondered why he didn’t soar all the time by himself, as Link would have if he had wings, and had delved into his mind for an answer. He was surprised to learn that Aepon didn’t even like flying all that much by himself, and that he considered it boring. Aepon had learned from other birds that flying made humans happy, and so he did anything that would make Link happy.

Aepon let slack his feathers and dropped jerkily a few feet, swooping under a particularly large clump of boulders. Link laughed at the exhilaration, the wind in his hair. Even if he fell, Aepon would catch him. He felt ecstatic, invincible; nothing could touch him here, where his bird was king.

Aepon’s head twitched, and Link looked at him, puzzled. “Link!” he heard Zelda call. “C’mere, see if you can-“

Then she screamed.  _“Link, LOOK OUT!”_

Time froze.

He was under the boulders, hunched on Aepon’s back, and saw something out of the top of his peripheral vision. He looked up. It felt like the action took forever, but he looked up.

Attached to the craggy edges of the boulder’s underside, almost hidden out of sight, was a stunted mass of purple and pink flesh, with a short tube for a mouth and a pair of glowering eyes. The eyes locked on him, and the creature’s body expanded, making a slight sucking sound. Then the entire creature contracted, and a rock the size of Link’s torso shot out of the Octorok’s mouth, hurtling toward them at blinding speed.

His mouth opened in horror. There was no way they could dodge it, so fast did it whistle toward them.

He saw it, and Aepon did too. The world lurched as Aepon flapped his right wing hard and folded his left, and the cloud layer and the sky whirled and reversed.

Then it felt like a giant curled its hand into a fist and struck him in the belly, and they went careening through the air, whirling like a windblown leaf, the sky and clouds spinning around them, a blurry mass of gray and white and blue and red beneath him. Green added itself to the menagerie, and suddenly pain exploded on the side of his face and his shoulder, and he was skidding through the grass, coming to a stop next to his bird’s motionless body.

Yellowing grass digging into his face, and open sky not far away, the sun unbearably hot. They were on a little disk island, he registered dully. The rock belt of the Hand Spire hovered somewhere above his head. Ringing in his ears blotted out all other sound.

He called upon his throbbing limbs and rolled onto his front, struggling to rise, his stomach threatening to empty itself. He saw red and white, and realized Aepon was right next to him, and felt relieved …

… until he realized the red he saw was not feathers.

He sat up in horror, his eyes wide, and crawled to Aepon’s side, putting a hand on the great bird’s neck. The Crimson Loftwing was collapsed in a heap, trembling, his breath shallow and raspy, his eye half-open and unseeing. Link ran a hand over the scarlet feathers, unable to tell what was wrong with him, until he lifted the bird’s wing. His entire chest was mangled and matted with blood, dripping onto the grass and wetting the dirt.

_“Aepon,”_  Link cried, tears rolling down his face. He looked up, desperately, searching for Zelda. A shadow passed over him, and Nohan was hovering above him, Zelda clinging to his back, staring at them with plain fear.

_“Link!”_  she shouted.  _“Are you hurt?”_

“No!” he sobbed. “Aepon is, _he’s dying!”_

“Stay there!” she yelled, and he saw she was holding back tears. “I’m going to get help! We’ll be back as fast as we can!” She shouted at Nohan, and he wheeled around and tore off toward Skyloft, his lavender wings a blur.

“Aepon,” Link said desperately, placing his hands on Aepon’s head, shaking him gently. “Aepon, please, please look at me.”

The eyelid fluttered, and the Loftwing’s eye moved for a second before growing still again. He shuddered, and lifted a leg weakly as though to get up. “No, stay down, Zelda will be here soon, we’re going to get you better,” Link murmured, holding onto his head, trying not to look at the- the blood-

He lifted his bird’s head onto his lap, clutching him like he was drowning. Aepon rasped in pain, gasping for air, his beak open slightly as he panted. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Link sobbed, burying his face into the red feathers. “I love you, I love you so much, please don’t die.”

The sun was so hot on the back of his neck, not pleasant anymore. The grass was yellow and parched, dying. It was too bright. It was all wrong. The gleeful day had gone.

After what seemed like an eternity Zelda returned with seven Skyloft Knights, some with Loftwings clutching ropes and tarps in their talons. They landed beside the boy and his bird, pried him gently away, reassuring him through his frantic protests, and looked the Crimson Loftwing over. One was Shrike, a hook-nosed bird doctor, who nodded wordlessly and beckoned for Aepon to be rolled into a tarp for transport back to Skyloft.

As they surrounded him, Aepon cried out in pain, a single, sharp rasp, and Link began to struggle anew to reach his side. Zelda placed herself in front of him, stubborn and steadfast as ever, yet biting her lip to keep herself from crying, and she shakily told him to stay put and out of the way.

The knights had lain down the tarp on the ground and were gently pushing and pulling Aepon onto it for the long trip back to Skyloft. One of them might have jostled him too roughly, or placed a hand where he shouldn’t have, for suddenly Aepon gave a shriek and thrashed, his legs kicking and left wing flapping furiously, knocking over two men. The shriek died into a low, lengthy rasp of suppressed agony and fatigue, and Aepon went limp.

“No!” Link cried, and dashed forward; Zelda intercepted him and latched onto his arms, hissing, “You can’t help, you’ll just get in the way.”

“I  _have_  to,” Link sobbed, shoving her, trying to push away from her, but she held fast, her fingers digging into his forearms. He could feel it now, the pain, but it was not the wrenching pain of sympathy, nor was it the pain that came with the fear of loss of a loved one. This was perverse and wrong; his chest was aflame, and every breath brought fresh agony, digging into his heart and spine. No one else could feel it. No one else  _would_  have felt it, had their bird been struck.

“Please,” he begged, his eyes locked on the ground blocked by the knights where his Loftwing was. “Please let me go. I have to see him. I have to-“ Zelda clapped a hand against his mouth, tears rolling down her face.

“You can’t help him,” she murmured, and released his arms, only to embrace him. He made to shove past her, but his limbs turned to water, and his chest burned, and his resolve crumbled. He collapsed, Zelda still clutching him, and began to weep in earnest as his bird danced with death.

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

It was a long flight back.

Four birds carried the tarp Aepon rested upon, each holding a corner in their talons. The other Knights flew in formation around the transport for protection and the needless visage of discipline. Aepon himself was silent and still, only seizing up occasionally in involuntary agony. The curled sides of the tarp obscured him from view.

Link rode with Zelda on Nohan, his arms wrapped around her waist to keep him from tipping off, so unfocused was he. He stared at the tarp, but did not see. He heard Zelda talking to him, but did not hear. A lump had lodged itself in his throat, and the back of his eyes prickled from lack of moisture. His chest throbbed with phantom pain.

The caravan of grim-faced Knights swept over Skyloft, and civilians shielded their eyes from the sun with their hands to watch them fly by. The Knights and Nohan flew to a large dark building not far from the bazaar, with two open walls and feathers hanging from strings in the rafters. The free Knights and Nohan landed first beside it, and then yelled directions up to the four carrying the tarp, enabling them to set it down gently. They bustled past Link and Zelda, flashes of uniform and grim faces, but he did not register any of it; it was all a blur of unimportance.

Aepon’s head was up when the tarp settled down. He swung his head to and fro blearily, not at all like the quick jerkiness of a normal bird. He made to rise, but the bird doctor Shrike rushed forward and held him down, and he barked something toward the building. A couple of little kids in black clothing rushed out and huddled around Aepon, helping Shrike keep him in place. “Start cleaning this mess,” he barked at them, and they obliged with clean linens and pails of water.

A Knight stepped up, and they talked. Then the Knight nodded and walked over to Link and Zelda. He put a hand on Link’s shoulder. “He’ll be all right, son,” he said gently. “Shrike’ll take good care of him, see if he won’t.” He mounted his Loftwing and whistled sharply to his men, and they all took off in a flurry of flapping wings.

Shrike hovered around Aepon, peering into his eyes and muttering, pressing a hand on his feathers here and there as the bird sat there in a pained haze. He snapped an occasional order to his troop of assistant children. The doctor did not seem to notice Link and Zelda huddled together miserably behind him. Only when Zelda said tentatively, “Um, Doctor?” did he turn and start, as though seeing them for the first time. He readjusted his glasses and set his jaw.

“Which one owns this Loftwing?” he asked, and Link stepped forward; he did not think he could speak properly yet. Shrike nodded.

“I have to check him over. Stand back a bit, I’ll yell if I need help.” And with that, he turned back to Aepon.

Zelda swallowed, and turned to Link, smiling halfheartedly. “Shrike’s the best bird doctor in the sky,” she said, trying to reassure them both. “He’ll fix Aepon up in no time.”

Link nodded wordlessly, staring at Aepon. The bird didn’t seem to notice anything beyond the doctor and his assistants bumbling around him, and seemed to have no idea Link was there. He simply sat and trembled violently, his wings drooping and his legs splayed under him for balance.

Link’s knees failed him, and he sank to the grass. Zelda sat beside him, putting an arm around him, and he leaned his head on her shoulder. She smelled nice, he noted dimly, and started giggling jerkily, unable to stop himself. Zelda stared at him blankly, and he managed to quiet the mad laughter bubbling out of his mouth. He tore grass out of the ground anxiously. He didn’t know what to do with himself.

He glanced up at Aepon again. His eyes were closed, Link noted with alarm, and a stone-faced boy was holding up his large head as Shrike inspected his white throat. “Set him down, he’s got no problem breathing.” Then he paused, and suddenly exploded, “Well, why aren’t you writing this down? The logbook, now!” The boy immediately dashed away like his pants were aflame. “Useless bunch,” the doctor grumbled, squatting down by Aepon’s inert head, lifting an eyelid. The golden iris underneath was dull and lusterless.

After a long silence, punctuated by the low babble the doctor kept up, he straightened up and turned to the two, who scrambled to their feet immediately. Nohan stood behind them, making tiny rasps in the back of his throat. “Well,” the doctor said, clasping his hands together, “he took a nasty tumble. An Octorok got him, you said?” he asked Zelda, and she nodded. “Nasty things. Nasty beasts. How exactly did he get hit on the chest, boy?” he asked Link.

“We were-“ Link stopped, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly. No force existed that would propel his voice, and so he stood there silently until Zelda put a hand on his arm and said, “We were flying through the rock belt near the Hand Spire. Link and Aepon flew under a rock, and an Octorok was growing on it. It fired at them, and …” She glanced anxiously at Link. “… and it fired at Link. It almost hit him, but Aepon flipped over and it hit him instead.”

“It should’ve been me,” Link said quietly.

“Now, look here, boy,” Shrike said, sternly but not unkindly, “it should definitely  _not_  have been you. You know what would’ve happened if it’d hit you?” Link shook his head. “It would’ve killed you, that’s what. It would have shattered your skull like an eggshell.  _Sccrr-ick!”_  Link flinched.

“Now come here, you two,” the doctor said, and led them to Aepon’s side. The Crimson Loftwing was being inspected by the child assistants; one held up his ponderous head as another, a little girl, held open his beak and peered about in the back of his throat. The great bird’s eyes were closed and twitching; he was awake, but not aware. “A little moisture in his mouth, Doctor Shrike,” the girl reported stiffly.

“Blood or vomit?”

The girl’s face grew bashful. “I-I didn’t really check-“

“Well poke your fingers in ‘is mouth and see if it’s red, you fool!” the doctor bellowed, throwing his arms out for emphasis. The girl flinched and nodded, but the doctor shooed her away, and she disappeared. Aepon’s mouth remained open, as though he didn’t realize no one was there messing with his tongue. Shrike poked the back of Aepon’s throat, and his fingers came back orange-red and moist. “Eh, little bit o’ both,” he declared gruffly, and snorted at the horrified look on Link’s and Zelda’s faces. “Relax, you two, that’s normal. Don’t tell me you’ve never thrown up after getting punched in the stomach. Now, look’ee here-“

He knelt and lifted Aepon’s limp wing; the normally flat, white feathers underneath were disheveled and brown-red, and the tarp underneath him was dark. “Lighten up, boy, you’re white as bone,” Shrike told Link, who tore his eyes from the wound and felt his face, as though paleness had a texture. “We all get a little woozy when our bird’s firstly injured. Like I said, if that pebble’d hit you, your pretty little face would be caved in ‘bout now. But him? Well, the skin’s split, and the muscle’s badly bruised, but besides that all he’s got is a cracked keel and a wounded ego.” Shrike tousled the feathers on the back of Aepon’s head; the Loftwing’s eyes fluttered open for a second, and then closed again. “Honestly, I was a little worried when I first saw him, but the worst has passed.”

“So he’ll be okay?” Zelda demanded.

“He’ll be good as new, sure. In a few months.”

“Why is he all … out of it?”

“Well, of course he’s in terrible pain,” the doctor replied, and laughed uproariously at the horror on Link’s and Zelda’s faces. “Relax. My little servants are getting the meds now. Or at least _they_  SHOULD BE!” he bellowed suddenly over his shoulder. Every single child tending to Aepon flinched and grimaced to each other, glancing into the pavilion.

Link swallowed and, his hands shaking, reached forward hesitantly to touch Aepon’s beak. He dared not touch any other part of him, for fear of somehow causing him more pain. The bird took no notice of him, which was to be expected from touching such a hard and nerveless structure, but Link wished desperately that he would open his eyes, or move, or display interest in anything. Instead the bird lay boneless, his violent trembling the only indication that he was not already dead.

“Now, he’s lost a lot of blood,” he heard the doctor say to Zelda behind him, “so he’s got to eat and drink and rest up. The skin and pectorals will heal easy –he’s definitely stopped bleeding already – but the keel’s cracked, like I said, and that means no flying. Don’t you make that face at me, young lady, I saw that. He’s staying out of the sky and that’s final. And I’m not talking days, either. I’m talking months.”

“It’ll heal, though, right?” Zelda asked anxiously.

“Of course! This is a healthy, spry young bird! Excellent health, by the way, perfect ten for that, boy. But you can’t hit a Loftwing in the breast with a goodly rock and expect it to jump right back up again. When was the last time your bird molted, boy?”

Link tore his eyes away and blinked at the question. “Uh … a few months ago? Four or five, I think.”

“Why, that’s just a Goddess-given blessing, then, ain’t it?” Shrike said satisfactorily. “Perfect timing! Now while I’m on the subject… .” He straightened and strode into his pavilion, batting multicolored feathers on strings out of his way, and disappeared into the shadows. He emerged with an enormous and wicked pair of shears, glinting in the sunlight. He walked back to them and, hefting the shears in his right hand and grabbing hold of Aepon’s left wing arm in his left, unfolded the wing to its full extent. Aepon’s eye opened slightly, and he arched his neck, rasping sharply in pain. “Relax, big boy,” the doctor called, raising the shears.

“What are you-“ Link started, and his jaw dropped when the doctor, with a single fell swoop, sliced the white flight feathers clean off Aepon’s wing.  _“Hey!”_  The long feathers, striped purple and yellow, fluttered to the grass.

“Relax, boy,” the doctor said calmly, rolling his eyes. “He can’t feel it.” He got up and walked around to Aepon’s other side, doing the same to his right wing. “Utterly painless.”

Aepon wrenched his wing out of the doctor’s grasp with a sharp, raspy cry. He threaded his beak stiffly through his drastically smaller wings, as though confused as to why half of them were suddenly no longer there. There was a moment when Link was sure that Aepon would realize what this would mean, that he would be earthbound for now and a long time, that this man had just defiled his body and tethered him to Skyloft. Instead, the bird stared at his wings for a moment, then his head drifted back to its former listless position.

“Why did you do that?!” Link demanded, blinking back tears and putting himself between his Loftwing and the doctor he so suddenly didn’t trust. “Now he can’t fly!”

“Relax, boy. That’s the point,” Shrike said nonchalantly. “Let me tell you how it is. Young bird like this, he thinks he’s invincible. What do you think he’s going to try when he can walk again? Huh? Tell me.”

Link glared at him. “Fly.”

“Exactly. These young birds, they’re beautiful idiots. He  _knows_  something’s wrong with him, but he’ll be damned if he won’t try flying the first chance he gets. Now, Mr. Crimson over here is quite fast, I hear. He’d definitely want to get back in the sky, and you know what would happen? He’d kill himself. The keel is the bone that muscles for flight are attached to. You break that, you don’t fly. Adding up now? Math? Education? You do go to school, don’t you?”

Zelda jutted out her chin. “We’re training to become Knights.”

“That right? Then put that Goddess-given opportunity to use. Use your damned brains. I clipped his wings to save his life. I’d bet you all the Rupees in my rather expansive pocket that he cares less about being earthbound than you do.” Shrike spun on his heel, and bellowed,  _“WHERE’S THAT MEDICINE,_ you useless brats?”

A boy scurried out of the pavilion, a jar filled with yellowish paste in his arms. Shrike snatched it out of his hands, muttering, “Useless,  _useless,_ ” under his breath, and, dipping two fingers into the swill and pushing Link aside, crouched down and rubbed Aepon’s chest with it, which by now resembled its former health a tiny bit, as the assistants had cleaned it up more as they were talking. He reapplied the mixture until Aepon’s feathers were covered and stuck together, as though someone had splashed hot wax on his wound.

Then he slid Aepon’s head toward himself and dumped the rest of the swill down his throat. Aepon gave a tiny rasp of protest before swallowing it down with slow jerks. He shook out his head feebly and, for the first time, looked around. He still shook violently and held his wings out from his body gingerly, but his head was moving a little more quickly.

Shrike turned to Link. “His feathers will grow back in a month or two. I just gave him mushroom medicine. You know what that does?”

Link shook his head, still too angry and frustrated to speak.

“It’s excellent for Loftwings, and they love the stuff. Slather it on their feathers and it makes ‘em bright as the sun. Put it on a wound and they heal three times faster. Give some as a treat and they’ll take your arm off trying to get it. It’ll help with the pain, make him numb, make him happy. You’ve got nothing to worry about, so relax.”

He turned to the assistants. “Let’s move this tarp, you lot, we’ve got to get him inside! Don’t let him stand, I don’t want him tottering off.”

“Er, Mr. Shrike?” Zelda asked hesitantly. “Shouldn’t we make him stand, so he’s not on his chest? I mean, you probably know more, but I was just wondering … ?”

“You want him to topple right over?” Shrike shot back, and laughed. “He look strong enough to stand to you? It’s the front part of his keel that’s broke, so as long‘s he’s not leaning forward, he’s fine.”

He strode away without another word to them, shouting orders to the assistants and leaving Link and Zelda alone. Nohan crooned behind them and placed his cheek on Zelda’s shoulder; his feathers were slicked down a tiny bit, evidently feeling Zelda’s tumultuous fear and grim pity. She smiled slightly and leaned against his head. Link turned away. He watched as Aepon was dragged into the darkness of the infirmary, and he could see no more.

Shrike soon returned, his hands clasped, and told them that the Crimson Loftwing was resting now, and he would be just fine. Link stood there numbly, absorbing it all, taking it in blankly and slowly, so that words said minutes ago only registered now. The doctor said, in terms they could understand, that Aepon was resting now, and he would be kept off his feet as much as possible to avoid letting him tip over, and he should be able to walk in an hour or so. He also stated that Aepon was to stay at his office (at this he gestured to his wall-less building) during the nights in case the bird tried to fly.

When he finished detailing the steps to Aepon’s recovery, which involved numerous pain medications and physical therapies down the road when Aepon would be well enough to fly again, he glanced at the sky, which was pink and orange, and scowled. “Boy, you look like you got hit by a house on your birthday,” he said frankly. “Go get some rest. You can visit in the morning.”

“I want to stay here,” he replied, and the doctor was shaking his head before the words were even out of his mouth.

“You are  _not._  You’re just going to tire yourself out, trust me.” He glanced at Zelda. “Pretty princess, take your little piece of man-meat out of here. Get some food in him, too. He looks terrible.” With that, he turned away, striding back into his infirmary.

Zelda blinked at his strange use of words, then turned to Link. “Come on,” she murmured. “You haven’t eaten at all today. You  _do_  look terrible.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Link, please. Aepon will be fine, I swear to you. There’s nothing more you can do.” She looked at him sadly, worry and sympathy plain on her face. “Come on, you need some dinner. You’ll feel better, I promise.”

Link stared at her and saw the quiet determination in her face, and sighed, knowing she wouldn’t let him do anything else. He allowed himself to be borne to the Academy dining room, where Zelda sat him down, looked him in the eye, and forbade him from moving a single inch. Then she turned and disappeared into the kitchens, leaving him to sit there alone.

Some other kids lounged in the corner of the dining hall, talking loudly and goofing off, paying the room’s new occupants no attention. Link didn’t pay attention to them either. He stared at the wooden table, tracing its patterns with dull, stinging eyes. The feeling in his chest had gone from a roaring pain that made him want to curl his body in agony down to a dull throbbing in his skin, barely perceptible but relentless in its repetitiveness. There was no distraction from it, nor could he ever bring himself to shove it to the back of his mind. Even if he were able to suppress it he would have refused. It was unique pain, and one that he felt obligated to share with Aepon.

Zelda came back with two piping-hot bowls of pumpkin soup and set them down, sliding one right under Link’s nose so its spicy fumes would be sure to reach him. She sat down opposite him, not touching her food and only staring at him. “Link,” she said finally. “Eat.”

“I’m not hungry. I said,” he said shortly.

She looked distressed. “You haven’t eaten anything today,” she said stubbornly. “You’re not helping anyone by starving yourself. Eat.”

“No.”

Her hand slammed down onto the table, making Link jump and the spoons of their bowls rattle. The voices of the kids in the corner died down, and Link could feel them staring. Zelda ignored them. She glared at him hotly, and sudden guilt and sorrow rose in his chest.

“Link,” she said angrily, and Link could only gaze back at her, at the sudden fury in her blue eyes. “You have not eaten a single thing all day. You are tired and sad and confused and in pain.  _Don’t_  give me that look. I can see it on your face.” She sat back, and looked resentful. “Your chest hurts because of your bond with Aepon. Now, I don’t understand a single thing about your bond with him, but I’m assuming you feel what he feels.” She raised an eyebrow. “Have you ever though maybe it goes both ways? How unstable are you right now? Think of how miserable Aepon is right now! Do you really want to make him feel  _twice_  as bad?”

Link sat for a while, turning it over in his head. He hadn’t thought of it that way.

“You’re feeling horrible,” she said then, more gently, and put her hand on his. “I know. You can’t change that. You know what you can change?” She stared pointedly at his soup. “The contents of your stomach. Now-“ She slid the bowl toward him again.  _“-eat.”_

This time Link complied meekly, and finished every drop. He wasn’t going to admit it, but he had to grudgingly admit she might be right, and the least he could do for his partner was fill his second stomach.

After he had finished eating he voiced the desire to visit Aepon again, but Zelda would have none of it. “Shrike said the first hour is the most delicate,” she said sternly, though returning more to her former meek and overly pleasing self. “I think we would just excite him, if he saw him now. Tomorrow he can walk. We’ll see him then.”

Link wasn’t happy with that, and she saw it. “I know,” she said. “I trust Shrike, though. He doesn’t really make it public, but it’s amazing how many birds he’s saved. Did I ever tell you? A Loftwing broke its neck once, and he treated it for years until it could walk again. Any other doctor would’ve euthanized it.” She tried to smile encouragingly. “He’s been doing this his whole life. He knows birds better than people. His judgment is best.”

Link nodded numbly, knowing what she said was true but feeling curiously betrayed that she hadn’t taken his side. She frowned at him, studying his face. “Link, you look exhausted,” she told him.

“I’m not tired.”

“You’re  _always_  tired.” She stood, and grabbed his hand. “Come on. Let’s get to your room.”

She led him across the hallway to his door. Mercifully, save for the group in the mess hall, the Academy was deserted. Link didn’t think he would be able to handle someone staring, or coming up to him to talk. Somehow he thought the whole town knew what had happened to Aepon, and he dreaded the people he thought would come up and say they were sorry. He didn’t want their apologies; he wanted his bird back. He thought of Groose and couldn’t think of what his reaction might have been. Would the bully taunt him as always, or actually feel sorry for once? Link drew a blank when he tried to imagine.

Zelda led him in his room, and the first thing Link saw was the framed red feather on the wall above his bed, bright and eye-catching. He’d gotten it a few years ago when he’d learned that most Knights framed feathers, and Aepon had happened to be molting, and so it seemed like perfect timing when Link was lazing about on the grass with Zelda as Aepon preened over them and a huge red flight feather had suddenly plopped onto his lap. Aepon kept trying to get it back to play with it, but Link decided to keep for his wall.

Zelda was saying something to him, but he couldn’t hear her, nor could he see anything but the red feather on the wall, and all he could think of was how much he wanted to see the bird it belonged to. His hands starting shaking, as did his chin. He bit his lip to try and regain a measure of composure on himself, but the prickling behind his eyes told him his body and mind were resisting.

He crossed the room and got into bed as Zelda said something else to him, and he faced the wall and bunched the covers over his head so Zelda couldn’t see his face. “Link?” she said again. “Did you hear me?”

“No,” he replied, hoping she couldn’t hear his voice breaking.

“I asked if you felt okay enough to go to class tomorrow,” she said. “I’ll tell Instructor Owlan for you.”

“Sure,” he heard himself say.

“Do you need anything else?”

“Do you want me to sleep or not?” he snapped.

She was silent after that for a while, and then she said, “Yes.” He didn’t hear her cross the room, but he felt weight on the edge of his bed, and she uncovered his face only long enough to kiss his cheek. “Get some sleep, Link,” she said softly, and then she left.

He felt bad for snapping at her after that, but the door clicked and she was already gone. Link let out a breath, releasing his lip and letting his tears fall. He hoped fervently that no one would come in and see him. A couple of times he heard knocks on his door, but he buried his face in his pillow and stayed silent until whoever it was went away.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he woke it was dark outside, and the moon was shining bright. He stared listlessly out his window at the night. Everything was dark. He could barely see anything.

He turned to the thundercloud in his head and tried to discern its state of being. It was floating dormant, radiating dull pain and and the barest hint of a dream. Sullen, Link flipped onto his other side. No one would let him see Aepon (most of all himself) and it was making him sulk like a child. What kind of a Knight was he? One that was so dependent on seeing his bird that he couldn’t stand to be apart for a while? Aepon was going to be fine. Everyone kept saying so.

Link flipped over again and kicked his legs. There were no comfortable positions he could find to sleep, a rarity for one so in love with his bed. He shut his eyes to force himself to fall back asleep, but it would not come. He sat up.

It had been too early to sensibly eat dinner when he’d gone to sleep, and judging by the stifling darkness outside and in his room it was sometime in the middle of the night. Aepon should be able to stand and walk by now, Link thought, and smiled a little. That in itself cheered him up a little bit.

A stupid idea formed in his head, and the more he tried to banish it, the more stubbornly it stayed. He bit his lip. Was his loneliness really worth the risk?

What had Shrike said? That Aepon would be able to walk around an hour or so after his injury. It had been hours since then.

The longer he thought about it, the more twitchy he grew, and the more eager.

Quite giddily he leapt up and crossed the room, listening outside his door for the footsteps of an Instructor or night-patrolling Knight. When no sound was heard he slipped out his door and down the hallway, every creak sounded by the floor beneath his feet like an explosion throughout the whole of the Academy. He writhed down the stairs in the please-be-quiet dance of the sneaky and opened the front door as slowly as he dared.

No one was outside. It was so easy. He didn’t know where the night patrollers were, but they were nowhere near. He dashed down the stairs so fast he almost tumbled down the last twenty and dove behind the tree he liked climbing sometimes near the Bazaar. After a quick glance to make sure no one saw, he played a solitary round of nightraider (a popular kid’s game involving multiple players, swift legs, and complete darkness) as he sprinted past houses and cliffs, always on the watch for patrollers or the other things that lurked in the dark.

Eventually he reached his destination, and successfully at that; no one had seen him, and apart from a momentary scare involving a miniature green Chu nothing had sought to hinder his progress. He crouched beside the Loftwing hospital building, listening intently for movements within. None came.

Slowly he crept under the extended roof, eyes squinted to try and see where he was going. There were all kinds of strange shapes scattered here and there, and he hadn’t thought to look inside the building back when it was daylight, so he had virtually no idea where he was going or what he could run into.

He stayed away from the windows of the building; he fervently hoped it was darker outside than it was inside so that no one could see him. He nearly crashed into a couple of benches piled with what he thought were shears.

Something moved in a dark corner, and he approached it cautiously. There were three little stalls lining the house, separated by wooden walls. The one in the middle was empty, but the two on either side held dark shapes.

Excited, Link hurried to the stall closest to him. “Aepon?” he whispered. “Hey, Aepon. It’s me, Link.” He poked the shape on the ground. “Is that you- oookay that’s not you don’t bite me- sorry, sorry!” He skittered away from the hissing beak, giggling nervously, before turning to the other stall. “Aepon. Aepon, it’s me.”

The shape shifted, and a head emerged, making a creaky inquisitive rasp. It paused, then rubbed against Link’s chest. He let out a relieved laugh, tension rushing out of his body, as he wrapped his arms around Aepon’s head and hugged him tightly. “Hey, buddy,” he whispered into the feathers.

Aepon gave him a light shove in response, rasping quietly, and Link was delighted to note how forceful it was. “Getting stronger, huh? That was quick.” He tousled the feathers on his bird’s head, then hugged him again, burying his face in his feathers. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he mumbled, feeling a million tons lighter, and was answered by Aepon tilting his head and crooning. The thundercloud told him what he’d been hoping to know; Aepon had missed him just as much.

He allowed himself five more minutes’ indulgence before pulling away. “I just wanted to see you, crazy,” he whispered, but even as he spoke Aepon chirruped in protest and started after him. “What do you think you’re doing? You stay here. Yes. No. Stay.”

Aepon read the intent through their link and rasped again, a little more loudly this time. Link clamped his beak shut immediately. “Shut up, you’ll get me caught! You have to stay here!” His bird clearly didn’t understand the concept of punishment or trespassing or the human inability (or perhaps just Link’s inability) to spend the whole night in a Loftwing stall.

Aepon drove his head into Link’s chest again instead and kept it there. Link rolled his eyes, resting his head on his bird’s, his smile growing bigger. It was late, and just like the night snuffed out warmth and light it did the same to reason. “Hey. Bud.” He drew back, holding Aepon’s head up, staring into what he thought in the dark was an eye. “I’m a little scared of the dark. Had a long day, after all. Saw some blood. Got a little traumatized. Want to keep me company?”

Aepon slid his beak open a little and rasped. “Exactly what I was thinking,” Link said decisively, and stepped back and motioned. “After you.”

Aepon read his intent and grew delighted; Link could tell he didn’t exactly know why, but he grasped the forbidden nature of being out at night and that, for some reason, made him absurdly excited. He practically pranced out of his stall, though Link with a critical and worried eye noted he walked lower to the ground than usual, and not just in a playful way. He also could make out a bandage plastered to Aepon’s chest; a quick look reassured him that it was white and clean and not tinged with red or orange at all. He would have to remind himself to keep tabs on that.

The Loftwing in the other stall stood too and was sticking its head out at them. Link led Aepon by and out, whirling back at one point to keep them from fussing, and, with a last careful look around, Link stepped out of Shrike’s odd building and into the moonlight, Aepon right behind him.

“Careful and quiet, bud, that’s the way,” Link whispered back to him, sending the thought through to his mind at the same time. In response Aepon slunk even lower to the ground, his head moving in excited little jerks as they made their way back to the stairs.

At one point Link cast a critical eye over Aepon’s wings, which he could see even in the darkness were greatly reduced in size. He sighed, patting Aepon’s back lightly, shaking his head. “No flying for us for a while, I guess, buddy?” Aepon chirruped in reply; evidently he didn’t care.

Still no one was around as Link made his way up the great wooden stairs to the Academy, his bird at his heels, making sure to go slowly and steadily so Aepon didn’t strain himself. They had to stop several times to rest and give Aepon a breather; he was becoming shaky and panted often now. Link started to have second thoughts. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since the crash. If he strained Aepon and made him worse … he couldn’t think of anything worse than that.

At one such rest a scratching, scrabbling noise reached him, and his head whipped around toward the top of the stairs, dreading the approach of a night patroller, a thousand excuses stuck in his throat. Instead he saw nothing; then, something, in the form of a dark lump, low to the ground. As it hunched at the top of the stairs the moon caught its glinting yellow eyes.

His heart began to pound faster and faster. He froze. Once again he was a little boy, alone out at night with a thousand eyes gliding out of the darkness, thirsty for his blood and his alone. Here was just one, but it hungered for him all the same, and slunk down the stairs toward him at a rapidly quickening pace.

Then he heard Aepon’s quiet breathing behind him, and the soft breeze of a gust that swayed the planks they stood upon, and the thought of Aepon plummeting to his helpless death flashed to the forefront of his mind. A feeling akin to indignation and one step down from fury crashed over Link, and as the demon Remlit bounded toward them he stepped forward, lifted his foot, and kicked the thing as hard as he could right off the edge of the bridge. It fell, writhing and yowling, before disappearing.

“Damn thing,” Link said, nettled, and looked around. “You didn’t hear anything,” he added to Aepon. Cursing was something he usually avoided, simply because he considered himself above it (especially since he’d heard Groose and his lackeys spouting off every profanity imaginable since they were twelve).

There were no patrollers still as Link made his way to the door and pushed it open, letting Aepon through. “You have to be quiet,” Link stressed again. “No Loftwings allowed. This is our secret, okay?”

If Aepon heard or understood or cared he gave no indication, only stood there looking quite interested. The only times he’d been in a building were the first night Link and he had bonded, that one time he’d barged in to drag Link out of school, and just now at Shrike’s infirmary (his many baths didn’t count, as he was too high-strung trying to escape to notice his surroundings). He toddled around a bit, poking at the ground and walls with his beak. “Come on, you,” Link whispered, and prodded him gently along until he walked down the hall.

“Not that door, not that door, not that door,” Link hissed, dragging Aepon’s beak away from the shiny doorknob of Cawlin’s room. He barely had time to recover before Aepon was trotting to the other end of the hall and stopping at the notice board, looking it over briefly, before tearing a large piece of paper right off the wall. “Give that back, you idiot,” Link growled, prying open his beak after a brief tug-of-war and snatching it back.

“No, look, stop running around.” He grabbed Aepon’s beak and dragged him around as he made to investigate the stairs. “Look, this is my door. Get in- and Aepon, couldn’t you have done that outside?” he whined, gesturing to a mess in the middle of the hall.

But he didn’t have an opportunity to admonish him further, because the most recalcitrant bird in all of the sky finally decided to do what he was told, and he bounced through Link’s open door. Link suppressed a moan of vexation and followed him in, closing the door on his way.

“Okay,” Link sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Welcome to my room, bud, it’s where I am when you try to barge in and look for me- let go of that, you idiot,” he added exasperatedly, tugging his blanket out of Aepon’s beak when his bird made to drag it off his bed. “Stop being so hyper. I brought you here so you can sleep with me, not bug me.”

With that, he remade his bed and made to climb in, and then on second thought went around his room securing or hiding shiny objects so they wouldn’t be ingested or messed with or torn apart by Aepon’s idiocy. He turned back to Aepon as the bird was in mid-yawn, and nodded sagely. “See? You’re tired.”

Loftwings could sleep either standing up or crouched, but most had a predilection for the former, and since bird feet didn’t tend to need cushioning Link just climbed into bed without fixing up anything for Aepon to sleep in. “Good night, bud,” he mumbled, yawning.

He heard a rasp, and looked over. Aepon was standing at his bedside, an enormous dark shape, tilting his head. He pecked Link’s shoulder, as though wondering what he was doing.

“I’m sleeping, bud. This is how humans sleep,” Link sighed, knowing he had to give an explanation or be bugged for the rest of the night, and accompanied every sentence with a corresponding thought. “Humans wrap themselves up in blankets and things. It’s warm.”

He felt a measure of pride when he discerned Aepon’s comprehension, both in his bird’s cleverness and his growing prowess at communicating with Aepon. People always told him to odd their bond was, and tended to give him skeptical or sardonic looks when he insisted he could feel Aepon constantly. Apparently most people only felt their bird when he or she was experiencing a particularly potent emotion, and vice versa. Link couldn’t relate to that anymore; he could barely remember what it was like to have a head all to himself.

His thoughts were drawn up short when Aepon reached up and placed a foot experimentally on his bedside. “Um, excuse me,” Link said, pushing it off. “What do you think you’re doing? This is my bed.”

In response, Aepon put his other foot on. Link shoved it off again, but gently so as not to jostle him. “Stop that,” Link grumbled. “Go sleep somewhere else.”

He suppressed a loud indignant cry as Aepon crouched and then leapt bodily onto his bed, wobbling unsteadily as Link sat up (and not being terribly careful where he placed his enormous clawed feet either). Link protested pointlessly as Aepon danced in place a couple seconds, his wings and tail mantling, before dropping abruptly onto Link, shuffling his feet and feathers around to get more comfortable. Link, currently being smothered, sputtered and remonstrated and tried to claw his way out from under his Loftwing. “Oh, Goddess,” he muttered. “Aepon, do not get comfortable, you are getting off my bed right now.”

He put his arms around his bird’s midsection and tried to shove him back (rather pointlessly done, as Aepon had collapsed on the opposite side of Link from the floor). This drew a sharp rasp, but from protest or pain or both Link could not tell, so frustrated was he, for Aepon was in a constant state of dull pain and had been all day. Link froze, kicking himself for risking a further injury to Aepon’s chest, which took up a considerable amount of his body in the first place.

So he sighed and covered his head in his blanket while Aepon shuffled around some more before finally going still. He put his blanket down to see. Aepon was blinking and ruffling up his feathers contentedly, tilting his head in a tired way. He had positioned himself half-on top of Link’s right side and half-taking up his entire bed, as Aepon was three times bigger than Link was and the bed was not made to accommodate gigantic red birds. His legs were curled up underneath his body, his left parallel to Link and the right lying across Link’s stomach, with the foot dangling off the other side.

Aepon yawned, his enormous beak stretched wide, before tilting his head at Link and nipping at his hair. “Stop it, you,” Link said. “I’m mad at you. You’re fat and lying on top of me and I can’t breathe.” This last part was not entirely false, as Loftwings weighed upwards of sixty or seventy pounds and Aepon was by no means a small Loftwing.

Link smiled reluctantly and rubbed the back of Aepon’s head. “How’s your chest, bud? You’re not hurting it, are you?” He twisted his body to try and check. As far as he could tell, the bandage looked normal, and wasn’t red or anything else indicative of alarm; Aepon had even settled in such a way so that it rested on or against no surface.

Link tried to muster up some resolve to make an attempt to reclaim his sleeping rights, but Aepon chose at that moment to close his eyes and lay his head across Link’s chest, precisely at the correct position that Link could easily wrap his arms around it, and he did so, heaving a dramatically relenting sigh. No point in fighting the invalid, Link thought in surrender, burying his face in Aepon’s cheek, trying his best to get comfortable and closing his eyes.

“You’re annoying,” he whispered as he drifted off. Aepon responded with a mental message that was basically equivalent to “shut up and go to sleep.”

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

Professor Owlan hadn’t quite expected any less, but he still felt disappointed in Link and his constant tardiness. Class had started ten minutes ago, with no puffy-eyed sleep-a-holic in the front row (on the side opposite of where Zelda was seated, of course; putting those two together would ensure two plummeting grades) as there usually was.

All of Skyloft had heard of how the two had been attacked yesterday, and Zelda had come to him the previous evening to express her desire for Link to attend class as usual to get his mind off things, for he was, according to her, torturing himself over it. Professor Owlan liked Link and Zelda and wanted them to be okay, so he felt obligated now to make sure Link wasn’t beating himself up too much. Octoroks were nasty things.

So he’d apologized to his class when it was clear Link was not coming in, excused himself, and set off down the hall to Link’s room. Coming to it, he grimly prepared himself for the worst: Link was in there inconsolable, Link was in there bitter and angry, Link was in there sleeping. He knocked three times and waited for a reply. None came.

“Link?” he called, knocking again. “Are you awake?” No reply.

“Link, Zelda was asking after you. She said yesterday you wanted to come to class. Do you still want to?” No reply still.

Professor Owlan put his hand on the knob and slowly turned it, poking his head inside, just to make sure the boy was fine. “Link? I know it’s a hard time, and you must not be feeling well, but-” He stopped short.

Fulfilling his worst fear, Link was still in bed, sound asleep, just as the Professor had expected. What he had not expected was that the Crimson Loftwing was also in his bed, curled up on his right side (quite literally on his right side) with his right clipped wing and leg draped possessively over his boy, also fast asleep. His head rested against Link’s, and the boy’s arms were wrapped tight around him.

“Oh, Shrike is going to skin you,” the Professor said quietly, chuckling, and then smiled knowingly. As quietly as he could, he closed the door and walked back to his class.


	8. Skykeepers

**_Skykeepers_ **

Though Link avoided a violent skinning, he found he couldn’t evade all the repercussions of breaking the “no Loftwings allowed” rule. For one, Professor Owlan made him clean up the mess Aepon had made in the hall the previous night, and gave him a stern talking to on the merits of responsibility and duty and adherence to set boundaries, and the fact that the Professor must have experienced a moment of weakness to allow Link to sleep through his classes but now, rest assured, he was feeling much better. Then he’d proceeded to school him in the most monotonous voice imaginable in the lesson he’d missed that morning, and forbade any contact from Zelda during the entire hour.

When Link was finally released, his brain fried, he walked out the door and turned his head to see Zelda seated against the wall, looking bored. At the sight of him she leapt to her feet. “Link!” she called, bounding over to him. “My father told me what you did.”

She sounded like she was torn between disapproval and relief at his heightened spirits. Link grinned at her and ran his hand through his hair in an exaggerated fashion. “Oh, you know me. Mr. Rulebreaker over here.”

“You’d better be ready for that test tomorrow, Mr. Rulebreaker,” Professor Owlan intoned as he passed them. Zelda burst out laughing at Link’s expression.

“If you’re having trouble, I’ll help you,” she offered generously.

“Really? Thanks!”

_“Not.”_ She shoved him playfully. “My father wants you to know he’s disappointed in you, not really surprised by your stunt, and that he’s praying for your good health.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause just wait until Shrike gets his hands on you! You went against his certified doctor diagnosis. He’s nice to Loftwings, but he’ll throw you off the Goddess Statue for sneaking Aepon out.”

“I’m surprised I haven’t heard from him yet,” Link said, a little worried. He’d been woken well past midday by Aepon’s fidgeting and shifting position, and upon seeing where the sun was out of his window, scrambled out from under his bird and fell all in a tangle out of his bed in his haste to get dressed. Aepon had watched him drowsily from the bed, his cheek feathers all puffed up and relaxed, obviously not understanding his hurry. Link had opened his door only to find two kids older than him in black uniform, each sharing looks of pity and sympathy to various degrees, and said they’d come to take Aepon back. “How’d you know he was here?” Link had asked, dumbfounded.

“In the words of our esteemed doctor,” the girl on the right said, she with lurid orange hair and green eyes and freckles, clearing her throat before making her voice drop an octave, “’where else would he be?’” Aepon had toddled off with them quite cheerily, squeezing with some difficulty out Link’s door. Owlan had gotten his claws on Link as he was watching them leave.

“That just means he’s saving his punishment for when you go see Aepon,” Zelda said seriously. “He’s taking his time thinking up the most diabolical torture-“

Link shoved her, and she stumbled back, giggling. “It’ll be excruciating-“ He shoved her again, and began to chase her when she ran, but a figure standing to the side by the notice board made him stumble to a stop. Zelda and he turned to see another boy in black uniform, younger than them both, with a very shy expression. He was lanky, tall, and had dark shaggy hair that fell into his blue eyes a little.

“Um,” he said in a voice that was far too quiet, like he was ashamed of interrupting their jovialities. “This, um, this is for you.” He sheepishly indicated the black bundle in his arms.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Link said, walking up to him. He vaguely remembered this boy from around town and in school, but he had never spoken to him. He took the bundle, shook it out, and made a face at the black uniform he beheld. “What’s this for?”

“Anyone who had a bird in the infirmary has to work for Shrike,” the younger boy said softly.

_What?!_ “He never told me this,” Link said blankly, exchanging a look with Zelda. She gave him a look, like, _Looks like this is your punishment._ This explained those three kids in black uniform at the infirmary yesterday, this boy included.

The boy shifted uncomfortably and shrugged. “He didn’t tell me either, at first. Someone came to my house and gave me the uniform, and I had to start at the infirmary the same day.”

“Wha- bu-  _for how long?”_  Link asked, aghast. Zelda was now graduating from pity and shock to amusement, as evidenced by her bitten lip to keep from laughing.

The boy shrugged again. “Until he decides you’re free to go, I think.”

“How long have you been there?” Zelda asked him. “Also, what’s your name? Because I definitely know you but I can’t quite place your name.” Link rolled his eyes; of course she would care about the name of some random kid when there were more pressing matter at hand, like Link’s imminent doom.

The kid blinked at her, looking taken aback. “I- uh, my name’s Loriki. I’ve been working at the infirmary for three weeks. Colpa had a lung infection. My Loftwing, that is,” he added hastily.

“Three weeks for a lung infection,” Zelda repeated, nodding and pressing her lips together to avoid letting her mirth bubble out. “I wonder how long it’ll be for a cracked breastbone.”

“And sneaking him out,” Loriki put in, before clapping his mouth shut, looking deeply ashamed. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay, I was about to say that. So, Link? How long do you think your sentence will be? Months? _Years?”_  Zelda snorted at the look on Link’s face. “I’m sure you’ll have fun. You’ll get to see Aepon every day, after all.”

“But what about classes?” Link all but howled, latching onto any excuse an adult worth his or her proverbial salt would appreciate.

“It’s afternoon shifts,” Loriki said timidly.

Link stumbled over to Zelda and gave a very long and drawn out, “Ugghhhhhh.”

“Um,” Loriki murmured, “I have to be getting back, so, nice meeting you.” He turned and slunk away.

“What am I going to  _do?”_  Link wailed. “This will  _suck!”_

Zelda gave him a concerned look. “Hey, if you’re actually feeling terrible about this, I’m visiting you every day. I mean, I can help out.”

“You’d better,” Link mumbled depressingly, looking down at his new uniform glumly. It had frayed edges and sleeves; clearly it had been used innumerable times by Shrike’s many victims. He wondered why no adults had to go through this; at least, he had noticed no grownups at the infirmary. “You know, I genuinely think he likes torturing children. I think he gets off on it.”

Zelda rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop. It won’t be that bad. Maybe you’ll get paid.”

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

“We’re not getting  _paid?”_  Link gasped.

Shrike looked him up and down. They were standing in front of his infirmary; Link had donned his dreaded black uniform after much moaning and groaning and set out with Zelda. Aepon was dozing back in his stall after another dose of mushrooms with anesthetic. “What? Did you think I was providing job opportunities out of the goodness of my heart? You already paid, boy, in the blood of your Loftwing. You should be paying  _me.”_

“But-“

“Oh shut up, you useless pole. You, girl! You seem marginally more useful. Why not get your bird an ouchie to help out a bit?”

“Oh, uh. No, thanks,” Zelda said quickly, then seemingly panicked at this swift response. “I-I mean, not that I wouldn’t like to, it’s just-“

“Oh, quit your inane babbling.  I can just tell you’ll be visiting this one-” And here he gave Link’s grudgingly and barely-fitting black-clad shoulder a shove. “-enough to make me tear my hair out, just like that other one. Who’s-his-face’s twin.” He made a disgusted face and looked round idly, like he didn’t particularly care whether or not he actually could point out to them Who’s-his-face’s twin, and clapped his hands together. “Right.  _So._ Before you begin _.”_

He tipped forward onto his toes, towering over Link, then abruptly fell forward into a hunched position so their eyes were level; Link jumped and leaned back. “Listen, you,” Shrike hissed. “I was sympathetic yesterday because your Loftwing was injured. Today I’m much better! For as long as you’re here – and you’ll be here a _while_  – you will abide by my rules. My word is  _law,_ boy. There will be no more stunts like the one you pulled last night. Do you realize how many little trolls think they can sneak their Loftwings out? You know what happens if they’re not careful? Huh?” He narrowed his eyes. “They might  _die._ Hmm? Walking around like that, blood loss and bone weakness and all?

“You will not toe the line. You will stay as far away from the line as is humanly possible. You will speak respectfully, work respectfully,  _breathe_  respectfully in this establishment. You will complete your tasks immediately, concisely, and up to my standards. You will not talk back to me or any of my clients. You will be here for as long as I want you to be – and don’t go moaning to anyone, because this little arrangement of mine where brats like you work for me was negotiated and approved by the Headmaster himself  _years_  before you were even  _considered._ Am I clear?”

Link stared at him and nodded, jaw set. “I’m sorry,” Shrike barked, “I didn’t hear you.”

“Clear,” Link muttered.

_“Now.”_ Shrike grinned then with a psychotic glint in his eyes Link would later lie awake in bed at night simultaneously cursing at and growing consternated by. “Would you prefer scrubbing buckets or mixing volatile chemicals?”

And so Link found himself lugging around three of the heaviest buckets he had ever possessed the displeasure of associating himself with, muttering swear words under his breath as he felt his stooped back slowly compress and knot into an unrecognizably sore fixture. They were filled with mud, straw, feathers, and Loftwing waste, as birds are not the neatest creatures to have existed, and the grayish mess kept sloshing around and spraying his face. Zelda fluttered around him like a nervous Keet, pleading to at least take  _one,_  but Link refused on the grounds that Mr. I’m-Too-Lazy-To-Do-This-Myself-And-I-Love-Torturing-Kids had given Link this assignment personally and by no means was he admitting defeat so early in his first technical job. She held the brushes for cleaning them.

He finally set them down none too gently in the grass next to the edge of a cliff with a grunt and stretched his spine back, groaning. The infirmary was within about a hundred yards of the edge of Skyloft, situated between the wooden stairs to the Academy and the cliffs of the Bazaar (presumably because it popularly dealt with birds and their care), and the cloud barrier and whatever it contained beneath had long been a bit of a dumping ground in the sky.

“Look out below,” Link called, in case an unfortunate happened to be flying underneath, and tipped over his buckets. Zelda helped him un-stack them.

“Did Shrike say how long you’ll be here?” she asked him.

“No,” Link muttered sourly. “He just said I have to be here immediately after my classes until sunset.  _Sunset._ How am I going to last? He hates me after that stunt I pulled with Aepon.”

“I’m going to visit you every day. Just try not to make him angrier, okay?”

“If he has a problem with me, it’s his fault,” Link said brusquely. “I don’t exactly like him either.  _Especially_  not for clipping Aepon’s wings.”

“They’ll grow back,” Zelda reminded him anxiously.

“He still should’ve asked my permission first. I mean, who cuts off a bird’s wings without a second thought? Someone with problems, that’s for sure!” he yelled pointlessly. Aepon’s thundercloud in his head lurched a little upon sensing his outrage, and Link was even more incensed at the fact that Aepon was far less angry about his clipping than he felt he should’ve been. Aepon didn’t seem to  _care._

“He’s the best bird doctor-“

“I don’t  _care_  if he’s the best bird doctor this side of the cloud barrier! He’s a stupid, arrogant, pompous, annoying-“

“We must be talking about ol’ Shrikey,” deadpanned a vaguely familiar voice. They turned to see one of the kids that had picked up Aepon that morning, the short, wide girl with a lurid orange ponytail and a smattering of matching freckles across her stubby nose and wide arms. She looked between them, shrugging. “You’ll be wanting to add ‘abusive’ to that list by the time the week’s over. You should’ve heard the rant he went on about you! Took one look at that empty stall and went on a rampage.”

Link tipped his head skyward and uttered a very long and drawn-out,  _“Uggghhhhhhh.”_ Zelda covered her mouth with her hand to hide her laughter as he collapsed to the grass, loose-limbed. “Link, be polite. Hi, I’m Zelda, and that’s Link. Please excuse him, he’s had a long day. What’s your name?”

“I’m Pelica,” the girl said to them. “The other Loftwing in the infirmary’s mine, Cofana.”

“He tried to bite me last night,” Link said from the ground.

_“She,”_ Pelica snapped, rolling her eyes. “And good, I hope she did. As if I don’t know who you two are. Anyway, just give me a bucket. I want to look busy to avoid the old coot for a few minutes.” She plopped to the ground and grabbed one of the brushes, beginning to slowly and quite pointlessly scrub the sides of a bucket.

“What do you mean about that?” Zelda asked curiously. “’As if you don’t know us?’”

Pelica withdrew a piece of jerky from her pocket and began to gnaw on it noisily. “Well, you’re the Headmaster’s daughter, so everyone knows you,” she said with a full mouth, and then pointed at Link,” and _you’re_  the stoned kid who follows her around everywhere.”

“I don’t follow her around everywhere! She follows  _me!”_ Link protested loudly. “This thing followed me home one day so I took pity. Now I’m her only friend.” He nudged Zelda with his foot.

“I’m going to throw you off this cliff, Link, I swear.”

“You guys should kiss,” Pelica intoned, to the mutual input of blushing and disgusted noises from both opposing parties.

“Wait, I’m not  _stoned!_ Excuse you!”

“Oh, what a surprise,” Pelica deadpanned, cutting him off, gazing over her shoulder to the distant infirmary, where Shrike could be seen . A golden Loftwing had just trotted up to Shrike, putting her head on his shoulder. He turned around and greeted, “Ebirda!” in delight, and immediately scratched the back of her head. “She comes by every day,” Pelica drawled.  _“I_ got bored of her by the fifth time she went up to me begging and he still treats her like royalty. Get used to that, kid,” Pelica said aside to Link, as he tried to gauge her age and was quite sure he was older than her. “People don’t matter to him. Loftwings do.”

“So, what happened to Cofana that made you have to work here?” Zelda asked, sitting cross-legged on the grass. Link heaved himself into a sitting position and began scrubbing another bucket with much grumbling and glowering, wondering how Zelda had remembered this random girl’s Loftwing’s name when he sometimes blanked out when she said the word “Nohan.”

Pelica shrugged. “Sprained her something-or-other. She was molting, and all her blood feathers were making her nippy, so she wasn’t flying right and flew right into something. Idiot.” She took a vehement bite of her jerky. “Now I’m stuck here because that numbskull was raising hue and cry, and my dad forced me to bring her to Shrike. I’ve been here a week already and I want to pitch myself off a cliff.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Zelda protested anxiously, when Link’s forehead produced a glorious  _thunk_  against the edge of his bucket.

“It is when he doesn’t like you!” Pelica growled. “I mean, he doesn’t hate me as much as he hates Magpei –  _wow_ he hates Magpei, and Magpei doesn’t even work here – but he still finds little ways to make my life miserable. Yelling, sneaking up on me, calling me out and all that. He doesn’t mind Nandu, and he’s easy on that crybaby Loriki, and … hmm,” she hummed in thoughtfulness, canting her head at Link. “Not as bad as Magpei, but … y’know, maybe he hates you as much as he hates me. He makes me do the gross sweaty work. I won’t be alone!”

Link, half-submerged in his bucket from trying to clean it, flopped over onto his side, bucket and all, and moaned in distress. “I hate everything.”

“It’s okay, Link,” Zelda said to him, trying to be reassuring but lacking the confidence in her words needed to do so. “It can’t be that bad, I’m sure.”

“Just you wait,  _girly,”_  Pelica sighed, and finished off her jerky.

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

Poor Zelda’s constant insistence that working for Shrike couldn’t possibly be that bad proved wrong, and Pelica’s words proved right. Link was expected to arrive presently after school every day (apart from weekends, where he arrived a little earlier than the time school ended on any other day), and was kept there long after the sun’s crown had disappeared under the cloud layer’s horizon.

He could wear nothing else but the black uniform provided; Shrike specifically told him multiple times that “worthless baubles” like jewelry or flashy accessories would not be tolerated under any circumstances, half because they were a distraction to shiny-loving birds and half because they annoyed him for no reason. This was rather unfortunate for Link, who had gotten his right ear pierced with a blue ring the previous year that he was quite fond of, and he was forced to take it out every day and give it to Zelda for safekeeping, after specifically telling her if she lost it he would track her down and kill her gruesomely.

The building itself was shaped like an L, but its roof extended over the empty space so that it looked a square from above. Under the roof were benches and tables and racks lined with sharp-looking instruments and general cleaning equipment, three stalls where three infirmed Loftwings could be held at a time that now held Aepon and Cofana, and a greased counter for receiving clients. On the wall were perched two swords, one larger than the other, and Link didn’t even want to guess their purpose. Inside the actual building was Shrike’s home and pharmacy. Link suspected he simultaneously researched new ways to cure birds and torture small children in there.

It had never dawned upon him just how often birds needed medical care, nor how busy Shrike’s establishment could be. It was barely a medium-sized house, yet it was approached with the frequency of the entire Bazaar. There was barely a time when no client approached; at certain points in the day people and their birds formed a line that extended over fifty humans strong. Shrike had a reputation among the people as rude, but incredibly knowledgeable, and for the price of their patience he could diagnose a bird quick as a whistle.

The cases were without repetition. They ranged from illnesses to injuries, flu to fractures. Some of the cases were downright laughable; one memorable day occurred when a man threw a fit over the fact that his birds was preening more than usual, sure that something was wrong. Other cases were not so petty. Once the Knights brought a Loftwing on a tarp like they had Aepon, except this one’s wing was dislocated. The pained moans it uttered made Link want to cover his ears until Shrike put his hands upon it; all he did was keep his hand in one particular area and push in another, and suddenly there was a  _pop_  and the bird was as good as new.

Between every client Link and the others had to keep the workspace clear, keep the instruments clean and stocked, and make their patients seem welcome. Pelica and Link were in charge of cleaning up any messes a Loftwing might make, a task that she bemoaned at every available opportunity.

Link also properly met the other unfortunate whose Loftwing had been cared for by Shrike. Loriki and Pelica he’d already met, but the third was Nandu, a tall stick-thin lavender-haired character whose expression never changed. He manned the counter, handing out jars of curatives in exchange for Rupees or calling for Shrike for a checkup or unrecognizable affliction, looking perpetually stoical and imposing throughout; Link felt a little intimidated speaking to him. He had this laminated walking stick that he carried around wherever he went and swung absentmindedly when there was nothing to do.

Loriki was to be found always in Shrike’s company, following him around like a butler and doing any little odd jobs he was assigned, whether it was mixing things or writing something down or anything else. He was the one who held a Loftwing while Shrike examined it.

Pelica, he learned, did most of the heavy lifting and grunt work, as well as the cleaning, and he found himself joining her most days. He still wasn’t sure whether he liked her or not – he found her a bit aggressive and loud – but at least in her presence he never found himself wanting for conversation; in fact, he came to realize he’d much prefer if she shut up about every little thing for more than five seconds.

Strangely enough, there were no adults working there. When he brought this up in the form of an indignant inquiry, Shrike had responded with utmost authority that adults didn’t  _need_ to. “Adults and children are entirely different creatures,” he apparently elaborated. “One, unfortunately, is made of iron. They can only learn by being tempered with extreme pressure. The other’s clay, boy, and you can shape it however you want. Building _character_ is what it’s about, not making your little troll lives miserable. Though that is a nice bonus.”

Link found himself either sharing responsibilities with Pelica or delivering drugs and treatments to houses all over Skyloft; he simultaneously rejoiced at and reviled the latter task, as it granted him an escape from the constant barked demands of Shrike, but he also hated wandering all over the city in his scratchy, cramped black outfit. Sharing heavy lifting chores with Pelica wasn’t too great either. Half the time she took frequent “beauty breaks” and left the rest to him. Link went home every day with sore limbs and absolutely no energy to do anything but stumble to his bed and pass out.

There was a weekly schedule of manual chores: Monday became Wall-Scrubbing Day, Tuesday was Equipment-Cleaning Day, Wednesday Cleaning-Bird-Wounds-in-a-Giant-Tub-of-Clean-Water Day (an especially dreaded day, given Aepon’s attitude towards water, and Cofana wasn’t a bath saint, either), Thursday Cleaning-Shrike’s-Windows Day, and Friday was Decorate-the-Place-So-It-Looks-Nice-For-the-Weekend-You-Brats Day. Saturday and Sunday did not have any designations.

This all was expected, and wouldn’t be so bad, but for the constant surveillance of Shrike. The man paced back and forth relentlessly, watching their every move to make sure they were doing their tasks to the utmost accuracy (though this didn’t stop Pelica from taking an undue amount of time off). When something wasn’t done to his satisfaction, which was often, he would practically shove Link out of the way to pretentiously demonstrate. He barked orders like an angry Knight, startling those who weren’t expecting his sudden appearance. He dubbed them his “trolls,” a nickname that grated the ears every time it was given voice.

Link’s only reprieves became the constant presences of Zelda and Aepon, as he was too irritated to talk to Pelica much and too intimidated by Nandu, and Loriki was always too shy. Zelda walked with him to Shrike’s every day and stayed pretty much until he left, and Shrike allowed her around only as long as she didn’t get in the way. She constantly helped Link with whatever he was doing, even when he told her it was fine and she wasn’t obligated to help, but she just kept doing it, so he let her.

Link also got to see Aepon all day, which was another upside. The Crimson Loftwing stayed in his stall, dozing or watching the goings on with mild interest, save for exercise periods three times daily when he and Cofana were let out to walk a little bit. The pumpkin-orange Cofana kept trying to fly away, and rasped angrily at anyone who approached her; Pelica whacked her a few times while leading her in circles around Shrike’s building when she snapped at her human. Link winced every time he saw this and took pains to be gentle with Aepon as he did the same.

“I swear, Zelda, you’re keeping me alive,” he told her one Tuesday as he dried a pair of gigantic pliers and set it on the towel full of other shiny and sharp instruments he’d been cleaning. She was helping him, as always. They were taking advantage of the nice day and sitting cross-legged in the grass. “I can’t stand this place or any of the people here.”

“Oh, aw? I like them,” Zelda said sadly, dipping a pair of nail clippers in a bucket of soapy water.

“You like everyone,” Link grumbled, and it was true as well as returned; he couldn’t think of a single person who didn’t like Zelda. It was common for her to strike up friendly conversations with the other kids there; she’d even coaxed a few smiles out of Nandu with her kindness and bubbliness. Shrike became a little less unbearable when she was around, and Pelica began ignoring Link to talk to Zelda (he didn’t know whether to be relieved or insulted).

“Nandu’s nice, and Pelica’s kind of funny, and Loriki is just a little sweetheart,” Zelda sighed; Link gave her a weird look, as none of the other kids had displayed any of these qualities in his experience. “Magpei’s nice, too.”

_Yeah, ‘cause he’s flirting with you,_  Link wanted to snap, but controlled himself. They’d met Magpei on the second day. Link had been ordered to wipe down the counter for the day’s clients, hoping Zelda hadn’t left, only to stomp over there and find Loriki talking very animatedly to another boy, who was leaning with his elbow on the counter like he owned the place. Upon his entrance Loriki immediately shut up, as though he wasn’t allowed to talk loudly when other people were around. “Hi, Link,” he murmured.

The other boy turned to him and gave a wide half-grin; Link recognized him from school as a kid a year younger, like Loriki, who was constantly surrounded by people. He’d never bothered to find out his name (he and Zelda tended to look at underclassmen with the same condescending disdain as all students did with the grades below them). He was of average height and muscular, with cropped light brown hair and ice-blue eyes. Link had to admit he was a little ridiculously attractive. “I’m Magpei,” said he. “Link, right?”

“Yes. Uh, can I help you with something?”

“Nope. I’m just hanging out,” Magpei sighed, stretching. “I hope Shrike doesn’t chase me out with giant scissors again. Goddess, that was fun, though.” He shot a knowing look at Loriki, who chuckled nervously.

Just then a shadow passed over them, and the sound of beating wings could be heard; a stocky black Loftwing with wingtips of red and blue alighted heavily behind Magpei, giving him a playful nip on his shirt. Then it caught sight of Loriki, perked up, and with two quick strides knocked him down to the ground with its head. “Giusto, be nice, you idiot,” Magpei complained, his tone implying he said this often, giving the Loftwing a tug on its collar away from Loriki.

“It’s fine,” Loriki said, clambering to his feet, with an identical tone of familiarity with the situation, and struggled to resist Giusto’s enthusiastic attempts to nuzzle him.

Link was taken aback, unable to determine to whom the Loftwing belonged. “Uh, Loftwings aren’t allowed in here unless they have an appointment,” he told them, not knowing what else to say. “So, um, whoever he belongs to …”

“He’s mine. Hear that, stupid? Get out of here,” Magpei said, laughing, giving the black Loftwing a light shove. “I’m a little offended by your blatant favoritism.”

Giusto got in one last tug at Loriki’s hair before trotting away and taking off. Magpei rolled his eyes. “Sorry, buddy.”

“It’s fine,” Loriki repeated. He was smiling a little.

“Are you, er,” Link said haltingly, not wanting to be blatantly rude, “ _allowed_  in here? I mean, this is kind of a workplace.” The last thing Link needed was Shrike telling him off for allowing random people to hang out where they were in the way.

Magpei shrugged. “Eh, not technically,” he sighed, “but who cares? Shrike can deal with it. I’m here every day, anyway.”

“Is your Loftwing sick?”

“Did he look sick to you?” Magpei scoffed. “Nah, I’m just here to see my brother. Maybe piss Shrike off a little bit on the side, but you know, we can’t all have productive days.”

Link looked between him and Loriki, surprised. They looked absolutely nothing alike. “You’re brothers?”

Magpei picked up a wayward feather that looked like it had come from Cofana, inspecting it idly. “Twins, if you want to be technical. I get bored without him.”

“Knock knock,” sang out Zelda’s voice, and she skipped back into the pavilion, her arms full of clear glass vials. Magpei suddenly sat up ramrod straight; the motion caught Link’s eye, and he frowned at him, wondering just what he thought he was doing. “Sorry I was out, but Pelica wanted me to dry these for her. Oh! Hello,” Zelda said, noticing the odd one out. “Do you work here too? You’re not wearing a uniform.”

“Nope, I’m just drifting by,” Magpei told her, and Link’s jaw almost dropped. He’d dropped his voice about an octave lower, and was smiling and winking at Zelda. He was smiling and winking at her. This kid. This _underclassman._ This little uneducated  _brat._ Link hated him on the spot.

The thundercloud in his head jerked, reacting to his sudden chagrin; Aepon stuck his head out of his stall and tilted his head curiously, rasping at Link, one golden eye sweeping the space, trying to find the reason his boy was so irked. Link sulked over to him and petted his head sullenly, watching Zelda and Magpei begin to chat it up like old friends.  _It’s_ me  _who’s her old friend,_ Link thought savagely.  _Stop flirting with her. It’s so obvious. What are you, like, twelve?_

Across the way, Loriki caught Link’s eye and mouthed a “sorry” and a helpless gesture that indicated he was used to this.  _You’re not innocent either. Control your idiot horndog brother._

Aepon nuzzled his hair, tugging on it a little, eyeing Magpei a little warily. Link was surprised at the image Aepon was conjuring in his head, a hazy, brutish version of Groose, and realized Aepon was thinking there was another human who made his human angry running around. Link thought it was probably best if he calmed Aepon and assured him that Magpei was no Groose, but was too bitter to even try.

And the stupid kid had  _continued_  hamming it up to Zelda, each and every day; both Magpei and Zelda showed up daily to be with their respective persons, yet somehow, they always managed to have at least one incredibly and  _pointlessly_  in-depth conversation together about something, and it was driving Link mad. He tended to skulk around them, watching them venomously, wrestling between trying to make sense of this sudden vitriol towards Magpei and just going with it.

It wasn’t like he was  _jealous,_  he reasoned with himself. He was just being defensive. Watchful. Zelda was his best friend. Of course he’d feel protective of her and want to make sure she was happy. Just … not in the arms of this half-grinning  _idiot_  whose attitude told the tale that he acted this way around every girl that was even the tiniest bit attractive. Every move he made just screamed  _ladykiller._

The only thing about it that brought him grim pleasure was the fact that Shrike really  _did_  hate Magpei, though he wasn’t sure why, and assumed it was just because he was perpetually in the way. Shrike threw things at him, yelled at him, and several times chased him around the infirmary, ranting about how useless he was. Yet not once did he ever make a true attempt to make him leave, and so Magpei just stayed.

“You don’t look happy,” Zelda observed, bringing Link back sharply to the present.

“Eh,” he grunted, scrubbing a scalpel with more enthusiasm than was necessary. He didn’t want to get into the intricacies of this pointless vendetta, especially not with her.

She frowned at him, momentarily giving him that worried look, and then went on. “Twins are so rare, you know? Their poor mother, having to carry two babies at once. It’s so risky to give birth to two babies.”

“It’s not like she had a choice,” Link muttered.

“And they’re  _so_  cute together,” she sighed, looking over her shoulder. Magpei and Loriki were sitting side by side on a workbench, cleaning off saddles (they were special hand-crafted ones for the use of several amputees and other disabled Skyloftians, as they could not sit a Loftwing conventionally), deep in conversation. Every once in a while they burst into laughter that carried all the way over to where Link and Zelda were. “I wish  _I_  had a brother or sister.”

“You’ve got me,” Link piped up.

Zelda turned to him, lips pursed in thought. “Hmm … you’re, er, not really a brother to me.”

They continued cleaning in an awkward silence for a bit, both not sure how to respond to that, before Zelda pointed to the roof. “Whose Loftwing is that?” she asked.

Link looked up. She was gesturing to a bright pink Loftwing napping on the roof of the pavilion, its head turned back and nestled in its wing and its leg tucked up to its belly. Link shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s been there every day. I guess it’s Loriki’s or something.”

Just then Nandu wandered out, looking as impassively bored as ever. Immediately the Loftwing jerked awake and leapt down to greet him, nuzzling him gently. “Well, there goes that theory,” Zelda snorted. She looked around. “Have you ever seen it?”

Link blinked. “Seen what?”

“Loriki’s Loftwing. Does he even have one?”

Link shrugged, idly turning over a pair of silver shears. “Beats me. I don’t really care if it’s not  _my_ Loftwing, you know? I wish Aepon could hang out here with us,” he grumbled. Shrike had deliberately restricted all outside exercise for the Crimson Loftwing to the three daily walks and nothing else was allowed, for fear of tiring out the bird. According to the thundercloud, Aepon was currently gnawing on the side of his little stall, chewing on little bits of wood and fabric in frustration. This, coupled with Link’s own discontentment, was making him feel absolutely miserable.

“I was just wondering. See, sometimes I like to guess, you know? I try and guess what color a certain person’s bird is based off of their personality.”

“I don’t think that has anything to do with your bird’s color,” Link said. “I mean, both you and Groose have blue Loftwings, but he’s an ass and you’re an angel.”

Zelda blushed, reaching a hand up to her cheek. “Stop it, Link, my face is all red,” she tittered. “Besides, Nohan is lavender and Banon is navy blue. It’s different.”

_Who the hell is Bano- oh._

“Well, to add to that theory, Shrike’s Loftwing was black, like his cold, dead heart,” Link muttered. “He never shuts up about her. ‘My Loftwing was sooo much better than yours is.’ If she’s so much better, than why is she dea-“

“Are we working, my little trolls?” yelled a voice right by Link’s ear, and he flinched, nearly falling over. Shrike was crouched down next to him, glaring at him. “Or are you letting your girlfriend do all the work?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Link muttered, leaning away from him and praying he hadn’t overheard their conversation.

“Well, she’s doing all your work while you admire your pretty reflection in those shears. Get it done,” Shrike growled, and stood and walked back to the pavilion.

Link watched him go, simmering, then opened and closed his scissors, muttering,  _“Get it done,”_ in a twisted imitation of Shrike’s voice. He made a violent motion with the shears at Shrike’s retreating back. “He’s so annoying.”

Zelda shook her head. “He’s very … overbearing.” Link rolled his eyes at her inability to insult anyone. “But he has a lot to do.”

“You mean  _we_  have a lot to do,” Link snapped. “He doesn’t do anything but order us around and poke birds all day.”

At dinnertime, which Shrike always made (a fact that made Link almost lose his appetite for once in his life), the kids sat wherever they could: on benches, on the floor, or in Magpei’s case right on the counter, though Shrike shoved him off whenever he caught him. Shrike himself had a chair he brought out just to eat. “So, my little trolls,” he said to them between bites of a strange, long sandwich with thick bread stuffed with Octorok meatballs, of his own invention, that he called a ‘champ.’ He swallowed and said, “I trust work is going along well today, hm?”

He asked this question every night, and they all answered in unison, “Yes, Shrike.”

Shrike rolled his eyes.  _“Yes, Shrike,”_ he imitated in a warped, mocking voice. “You trolls never say anything different.”

“You told us on the first day that that’s the way we always have to respond,” Pelica said flatly.

“Irrelevant! You’re ugly,” Shrike shot back, chucking a piece of bread at her. A two-person stationary food fight ensued.

Link and Zelda were seated cross-legged before Aepon’s stall, who was lying crouched behind them, his enormous head balanced between their shoulders and nibbling on bread pieces they fed him. By this point his bandage was much lighter, and when they took it off to change it the wound was nearly unnoticeable, save for a small dent in his coat of feathers, and if one moved them they would see a pale scar on his thin skin. Link’s relief was immeasurable. He remembered how despairing and panicky he’d been when Aepon had first been hit; apart from that first delirious day, Aepon acted utterly normal, despite the pain, as though nothing was wrong.

“You! Aren’t you supposed to be gone by now?” Shrike suddenly exclaimed at Magpei, who had resumed his perch on the counter.

“I’m getting around to it,” Magpei said, shrugging, even though he’d voiced his intention to go home over a half an hour ago. Loriki was seated on the ground below him; his brother’s foot kept tapping his shoulder.

“Yeah? Get around to it quicker.” Shrike squinted around at the dusk outside the pavilion; it was only just beginning to grow dark. “Go fly on home on that scruffy brown thing you call a bird.”

Link raised his eyebrows at Zelda. One thing about Shrike was that he could insult and degrade people all he liked, but he never insulted a bird. He liked birds better than he liked people.

“He’s  _black_ , thanks,” Magpei said irritably. “And he’s a lot less  _scruffy_  than a lot of birds I’ve seen.”

“Ha! You don’t even know what a black bird is.”

“Oh, here we go,” Pelica muttered into her sandwich.

Shrike reached into his collar and withdrew a necklace, holding it up for all to see; on the end was a single black Loftwing feather, curly and wide, one that Link recognized as the contour kind that came from a bird’s crown. “Ah, my Delta,” Shrike sighed dramatically, his other hand placed upon his breastbone, “how I wish you were here to show these trolls what a true Loftwing is.”

It was common knowledge among anyone who knew him that Shrike’s Loftwing was dead, since this wasn’t the first time Shrike had shown off his feather and waxed poetic, though no one really knew how or when she died. “Such a beautiful creature was she,” Shrike went on theatrically. “Black as night and tall as a tree. I’m not lying about that, you know,” he growled, glaring around at them all. “She must have been twelve feet tall. Pink and gray wingtips. Green eyes. Gorgeous creature.”

“Twelve feet,” Pelica snorted. “Yesterday it was fifteen and the day before it was ten.”

“My memory is hazy, you ugly little girl,” Shrike snapped. “You’re four feet tall, big things all look the same to you.”

Magpei and Loriki burst into giggles. Shrike shot them a simultaneously disapproving and appreciative look. “Scram already,” he yelled at Magpei. “You’re ugly too.”

“Excuse you? I’m the hottest piece of ass you’ve ever seen.”

Pelica leaned over to Zelda and muttered, “Ain’t that the truth. I’d ride that like a Loftwing.” The two girls were then overcome with giggles, and Magpei winked; Link scowled and shoved his sandwich at Aepon, who devoured it greedily.

“I’ve seen hotter asses behind counters at the Bazaar! And stop giving him bread, idiot, it’s bad for his digestion,” Shrike barked at Link. “Makes their feathers fall out and stomach upset.”

“I’ve been giving him bread all his life,” Link growled.

“He’s also been refusing food for no reason at random intervals all his life, hasn’t he?”

Link opened his mouth to protest, but then realized that this was true; sometimes Aepon just stopped eating because he didn’t feel well. He shut up immediately, not wanting to admit that Shrike had pinpointed a random quirk that Aepon had displayed for as long as Link could remember simply based on medical observation. Zelda made a wincing face beside him; she’d fed Nohan bread all his life too.

Magpei hopped down from the counter, stretching. “Well, got to go home for dinner,” he sighed, then spun and ruffled Loriki’s hair. “I’ll be back to walk you home.”

“Okay,” Loriki said happily, and watched his brother go with a steadily shrinking smile. He turned back to his half-eaten food, looking gloomy and alone.

At that moment an elderly woman approached with her limping Loftwing, and Shrike barked at them all to get to their stations, and that was the end of dinner.

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

The next day was a delivery day for Link, and a special one besides; Shrike had looked Aepon over, checked his injury, and deemed him suitable for a stroll in celebration of his first day without a bandage. And so the Crimson Loftwing accompanied Link on this fine Thursday, walking with Link as he practically skipped in glee on his way to the four houses he needed to visit.

“You didn’t miss much, buddy,” Link told him happily, stroking his cheek lightly as they walked. “Luv’s pregnant, and some new girl is manning the Item Check, and they added another Loftwing statue to the courtyard. It kind of looks like you, but less fat and gross.” Aepon, not recognizing these words but knowing they were playful insults, nipped at his hair and cawed. Link gave him a nudge in return, being extremely careful not to apply pressure to his chest; the bandage was off and his skin was healed, but his keel was still cracked, and it pained his Loftwing sometimes.

He made sure Aepon was waiting and still outside before ducking into the Bazaar to deliver his first package of pills to a regular at the little restaurant in the corner. Along the way he carefully sidled past Luv’s stall; she’d been roping in passerby to gush about her impending baby to them, and Link had fallen subject twice now with no desire for a third round of discussing baby names.

“So far they’ve got Vul, Birdo, Gulpy, and Alto as names for it,” Link informed Aepon as they resumed their stroll. “She’s sure it’s a boy, but Bertie has thought of some girl names he told me. We both like Scopsa – it’s a weird name, I know, but it sounds kind of nice.”

Link hopped up the stoop of the second due house, knocking on the door and handing the occupant a list of daily instructions for her newly injured bird in need of physical rehabilitation. As she opened the door he noticed she was half-dressed in Knight equipment, as evidenced by her unbuttoned shirt and hanging goggles around her neck. She looked incredibly distracted and agitated; she snatched up the paper from Link’s hand and narrowed her eyes as she skimmed it. “How am I supposed to have time for this?” she snapped suddenly at Link, and he recoiled; Aepon rasped behind him, irritated. She waved at him. “Sorry, I’m sorry. We just got a report. Pirates are acting up around Bluegrand.”

“Are they?” Link asked. Sky pirates caused a bit of trouble now and again, but the Knights could usually drive them off. Still, Bluegrand was the nearest major sky city. They didn’t usually strike this close.

“Yup,” the woman said gruffly, holding the paper between her elbow and side and wrestling on gloves. “Most of the force is being dispatched to help take care of it. We’re taking most of the senior students, too, just so they can see what it’s like. Like a field trip.”

Link perked up. “I’m fifteen and training to be a Knight. Shouldn’t I come?”

The Knight looked him up and down, taking in his ill-fitted black uniform, trying not to smirk. “Nah, Shrike needs you more,” she chuckled. “He’ll have my hide if you ditch.”

Link grumbled to himself about not being able to go anywhere anymore. The woman rolled her eyes. “I mean, it’s not that big of a deal. It’s just a minor raid. They’ve been acting up a lot recently.” She looked at him pointedly. “So don’t cause trouble, you. No pranking with that girlfriend of yours; there won’t be many Knights to reign you in.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Link mumbled, nodding and turning to leave. He looked left and right along the road, hearing the woman’s door click shut. There actually weren’t any Knights within sight; he should have noticed that earlier. “Well, buddy,” he joked, turning to his bird. “Looks like you’ll have to do all my protecting today. So shape up. No more of this broken chest business.”

Aepon rasped and rubbed his beak against Link’s ear. Link winced and shoved him away gently. “Watch that hook, fatty.”

For the rest of his trip he couldn’t stop thinking, now that he’d noticed, about how eerily quiet it was. Knights patrolled the ground and sky constantly, and seeing none around really took away from the hustle and bustle. “Look, Aepon, it’s so monochrome. There’s no bright colorful uniforms around.”

When he returned to the infirmary Zelda was waiting for him. He’d scarcely opened his mouth to greet her when Shrike called from his building, “You two! Trolls! Come here. Scamper!”

“Hark, the beast hails,” Link muttered. Zelda nudged him with her shoulder and they walked together. Aepon went immediately to his stall and tucked in for a nap.

A smallish sky-blue Loftwing was tethered to a post right outside the pavilion, nibbling on the sleeve of its female owner. Shrike was hovering over its beak, which was covered in flaky white crust, especially around the cere; its nostrils were nearly engulfed in the stuff. Loriki held its head, looking pale. “Terrible,” Shrike kept muttering. “Terrible! Look at this scar tissue. Disgraceful. You should’ve sent him here immediately once you noticed something was wrong! You’re lucky scaly face mites don’t  _hurt!”_

“I thought it was just feather dust,” the woman snapped, stroking her Loftwing’s wing arm.

“You thought  _this_ was feather dust?” Shrike spat, gesturing to the caked-on mass. “If you’d waited much longer his beak would be warped, and I might have had to  _amputate it!”_ He cut himself off, hissing angrily under his breath, brushing his fingers lightly over the bird’s face, inspecting the extent of the damage. Link felt a little revolted looking at it. Zelda nudged him and pointed down; Link glanced and saw the same kind of whitish residue on its legs and feet, especially around its toes.

“You two,” Shrike grunted. “Make me an iverm ointment, and be quick about it, too.”

“I’ve got it,” Zelda piped up immediately, and dashed away. Link stayed where he was; ointment making tended to be a one-person job. “That’s not contagious, is it?” he asked nervously.

“Mildly,” Shrike muttered, glaring at the Loftwing’s owner. “That’s why we’re out here and not inside. I’ll dose your bird and Pelica’s as a precaution anyway.” The fingers of one hand prodded the growth delicately while the other rubbed the Loftwing’s cheek; its head tilted toward the hand and its eyes fluttered closed in bliss. “Besides, most Loftwings have the mites, it’s just that a lowered immune system allows them to take over.” He rounded on the woman suddenly. “You know what causes a lowered immune system? Neglect.”

“I’m not  _neglecting_ him,” the woman said angrily, and the Loftwing reacted to her anger, straightening up and rasping sharply. Loriki turned white as a sheet and stumbled back, his hands shielding his face; Shrike stepped between them immediately.

Link started forward, confused and wanting to help, but Shrike waved him away impatiently and turned to Loriki, putting his hands on the boy’s shoulders. Loriki was shaking like a leaf. “It’s all right, he’s just agitated,” he said softly. “Don’t be frightened. Go find your brother.”

Loriki nodded jerkily and walked past Link and into the pavilion without a word. Link turned with him, wanting to say something, but Shrike gave him a scathing look and returned to the woman’s Loftwing. “Scamper over here and hold this one,” he barked, and then turned to the woman. “And  _you,_  hold your temper. I’m the only one allowed to get irate around here. Ah-ah!” he interrupted sharply when she opened her mouth to protest. “You don’t like it, go somewhere else. Just leave your Loftwing here, because I don’t feel safe leaving him around you.”

Link stared hard at this Loftwing’s feathers, trying not to look at Shrike or the woman or the gross aggregation on its face. He was torn between being surprised and confused at Shrike’s gentleness when dealing with Loriki and irritation at his abuse of medical power.

Zelda scurried back, holding up a dish of grainy yellow ointment, glancing around sheepishly at the obviously charged atmosphere. Shrike nodded once in thanks and began administering the goo to the Loftwing’s face. Zelda sidled around him and up to Link, murmuring, “So. Fight?”

“Yup.”

“Shrike shut her down?”

“Yup.”

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

Shrike made them all dinner late that night; it was already twilight outside when he started. They only had a little over an hour before the dangerous hours of the night began to eat and get home. Shrike was distracted and irritable, muttering to himself and stomping all around with angry sighs and grunts of impatience. Pelica was picking her nails with the shaft of one of Aepon’s feathers, which Link stared at, mildly disturbed. Magpei had already gone for the day and Loriki was sitting by himself, looking forlorn. Nandu methodically wiped down the counter. Zelda and Link were talking quietly and absentmindedly scratching Aepon’s white cheeks; he tilted his head in their hands and yawned in bliss.

Shrike handed out bowls of stew, still muttering. Pelica received hers and stared at its contents with a lip curled in disgust. Then she looked around. “Hey, why’s he got so much more than I do?” she demanded, pointing in Loriki’s direction, who shrank away from her attention like she was going to strike him. “You gave him half the pot!”

“Because he’s a stick, look at him,” Shrike retorted. “Poor boy needs to eat.  _Plus,_ he’s actually been a good worker today, unlike some of us.”

“I cleaned all your windows, you scrooge! Inside and out!”

“Oh, congratulations,” Shrike simpered, voice dripping in sarcasm. “We’re so lucky to have you.”

“You-  _you’re_ the troll here!”

“Shrike,” Nandu said.

“Oh, I think you’re mixing up who’s in charge here! If it’s all the same to you, maybe I’ll give your food to your bird. She takes enough already,  _doesn’t she?”_

“Shrike,” Nandu repeated, a little louder.

“What?” Shrike barked.

Nandu pointed; they all looked. A Knight was running at full speed toward them, sword in hand. Link’s spine crawled; the Knight looked frantic, like he’d been running for a long time. Scenarios flashed through his mind: an accident, or a death.

The Knight skidded to a stop before them, panting and gesticulating wildly. “Spit it out, man,” said Shrike, striding toward him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“The … pirates,” the man panted. “Not at … Bluegrand-  _here.”_

“What do you mean?” Pelica demanded, still incensed. “They can’t be  _here._ They never come here. We’re Skyloft.”

Shrike turned to them and opened his mouth, but before he could get any words out, a scream shattered the silence.

Everyone stood stock-still. It was very distant, and only came from one voice, but they were all stricken nonetheless. Bloodcurdling and raw, it sounded like it came from a man. Link’s eyes widened as it was abruptly cut off, but by what he could only guess. Silence rang.

Shrike stood there, frozen. No one could move. Then Loriki whimpered and backed up until he was at the wall, his hands covering his mouth, and the spell was broken. Zelda immediately went to his side; Link exchanged a glance with Pelica, both of them looking confused and bewildered.

“Stay indoors,” the Knight told Shrike. “Keep everyone indoors. Call your Loftwings and keep them close. Barricade the doors and windows; if they get in, do not engage them, just give them what they want and they’ll leave. Don’t act like a damn hero, either. Don’t go outside for anyone but a Knight, you understand me? I’ve got to go warn more people.” The Knight spun and ran off, looking left and right fearfully.

“This is stupid,” Pelica spoke up, looking around for support. “No one attacks Skyloft, we’re the biggest city there is! Pirates have never attacked here, we’ve got the Knights, and even if they did it’s not like it’ll do any damage. There aren’t enough pirates.”

Shrike was not among them, they all realized suddenly. He was outside, looking up and shaking his head. “No, girl,” he called back. “They’ve got us. Surrounded.”

Their feet dragged them forward. They peeked out from under the pavilion. Dozens of Loftwings flew overhead against the blue-black sky, far enough away to be simple black dots, but there were so many of them shrieking and diving and interlacing. Raucous, distant laughter filled the air, as well as whoops and yells. Link and Zelda clutched at each other fearfully, gazing all around. As far as they could see were these strange Loftwings, swooping in random circles or occasionally chasing each other. They’d created a net above Skyloft; even as they watched a Loftwing, just a frantic flapping speck to them, burst out of the residential district and tried to dive between two pirates. Immediately they turned upon it, tearing at it with their beaks and talons; Zelda cried out when the bird went limp, and the two pirates chased it as it fell below Skyloft.

“All the Knights went to Bluegrand,” Link said dumbly. He dragged Zelda back under the pavilion, full of fear and dread now that he realized that the threat was real, they were  _right there._  “They’re all gone. One of them told me. They took the students, too. They said there was a raid going on.”

He turned to see if Shrike was listening; the man was standing off to the side, and standing beside him was Ebirda. He held her head in his hands and was murmuring something quietly in her ear as she stood absolutely still. Then he patted her beak, and she bobbed her head and trotted off. Link stared, uncomprehending. He looked around to see if any of the others had noticed; they were all looking at the sky. “Did you-“ he started to Zelda, but she wasn’t paying any attention to him.

Shrike began to speak as if nothing had happened.

“A distraction, obviously,” he growled, beginning to pace back and forth. “Clever bastards. They’re getting more ambitious. What do they expect to gain, hah? We’re a city!” he snarled suddenly, then huffed out a breath. “A defenseless one too, now. They can plunder all they want. What are we without Knights? Farmers? Shopkeepers?”

“How did they sneak up on us?” Link demanded. “No one even saw them and all of sudden there they are.”

“They must’ve flown close to the cloud layer,” Shrike replied, “as close as they could, then flown up and surrounded us. It’s so dark, we can barely see anything.”

“I want to go home,” Loriki said tremulously, Zelda fretting at his side. “I want to leave. I want my brother.”

“You live on the other side of the island,” Shrike said, turning to him. “We have no idea what’s between here and there. No, all of you stay here. You’ll go inside, barricade the doors and whatnot. But first of all, call your birds.” He then went around extinguishing all the candles, submerging them all in near-darkness.

Nandu gave a sharp whistle; his pink Loftwing fluttered down from the roof and trotted inside, placing itself at his shoulder. Cofana ducked out of her stall and went to Pelica’s side, nipping her shirt and earning a swat. Link saw Zelda concentrate, obviously trying to contact Nohan.

Link immediately put himself at Aepon’s side. The Crimson Loftwing was rasping anxiously, not quite comprehending why everyone was so tense all of a sudden. Link leaned against his head and held him, trying to convey mentally just what they were doing. He focused on  _bad people coming, we have to hide,_ and Aepon cawed shrilly in displeasure. “Shh,” Link hissed. “We don’t know where they are.”  _We are all children,_ he realized suddenly, and stared at Shrike.  _He’s the only one protecting us. One man against a band of thieves._

Another distant scream split the air, then another, and then the sound of distant running feet. Link clutched Aepon, frozen, hating the fact that he had no idea what was going on outside. He jumped when a large figure passed close by, but it was just Nohan. He and Aepon gave each other a quick nudge with their heads before Nohan trotted to Zelda’s side.

“Now get inside, all of you,” Shrike ordered in a rushed, quiet voice, opening his door, glancing over his shoulder at the darkness outside. “Barricade it when you’re in. I begrudgingly give you all permission to raid my pantry, just  _do not_  touch anything in the blue cabinet, that’s medicine and will probably kill you.”

They all began the frantic stampede inside, humans and Loftwings alike, before Zelda suddenly stopped short, drawing everyone else to a halt. “Wait a second,” she breathed. “You’re not coming in?”

Shrike regarded her, eyebrow raised, before muttering, “Of course not. Someone has to defend the place.”

Link and Zelda exchanged shocked looks. “You can’t stay out here,” Link protested. “You have to hide with us.”

Shrike glared at him. “Pirates are nomadic thieves,” he growled. “They fight for a living. They get hurt a lot. Medical help is in short supply in the wild. When they hit places, they’ve got three priorities: rich houses, armories, and hospitals. This infirmary is my  _home._ I’m not letting some raggedy bastard  _scavengers_ get their grimy fingers all over it.” He sighed. “This is one of the most dangerous places to be. I’d bundle you cherubs all up and send you off somewhere, but where? The closest place is the Bazaar, which is an obvious target, and the Academy, and that’s too far to risk. The best I can do is get you all inside and make sure no one gets you.”

“You can’t defend us alone,” Pelica said quietly, looking puzzled.

“Yes, I can,” Shrike snapped. “Now get inside. All of you.  _Now.”_

The kids exchanged glances. They all felt so suddenly young, and Shrike so suddenly full of authority, and the situation so frightening, that they all began to file into his house again. Link started with them, but heard the faint rasp of metal and glanced back. Shrike had picked up one of the swords on the wall, the bigger one, and was sitting in his chair with the blade across his knees. Waiting.

“Link, come on,” Zelda said quietly, trying to tug him inside. Link could not look at her; he could only stare at the man, sitting utterly alone, waiting expressionlessly for who knew how many assailants, all well-trained in the art of plunder.

Shrike looked round sharply when he heard Link take the second sword off the wall and move to stand next to him. The hilt was awkward and wide in his hands, and his wrists began to ache from holding it, but he refused to lower it. Shrike stood. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded sharply. “Put that away. Get inside.”

Link shook his head, staring him down. “I’m not leaving you out here.”

Shrike’s lip curled, and he was about to retort, when Link turned abruptly to the others. “Well, guys?” he called. “Are we seriously going to leave this old guy out here alone? Fighting a bunch of pirates?”

The rest of the kids stood frozen, staring at him with wide eyes, and for just a second he began to worry they would go inside too. Then Zelda picked up a crowbar from the wall and strode over to stand next to him, beaming at him, and Nandu picked up his walking stick, swinging it like a baton. Pelica took that as her cue to start muttering about “goddamn heroes” and snatched up an iron poker; Loriki slunk over to a table and picked up a pair of shears.

Link turned to Shrike, trying not to look smug. The man stared at him curiously. “Go inside, all of you,” he said, not moving his eyes from Link’s, but his voice held little of the resolution it had had.

“No,” Nandu replied, and that was that.

Shrike groaned, sitting back in his chair. “Hide behind something, then,” he ordered them, “and tell your Loftwings to get on the roof. If you’re really going to stick around, then we’ll give those bastards a nasty surprise. Make them think we’re deserted and clobber them to convince them otherwise.”

“Hoo-ah!” Pelica whooped before diving behind a rack of tools. Loriki crawled behind the counter; Nandu stood in a dark corner, his tall figure shrouded in shadow. The pink Loftwing and Cofana bounded outside and fluttered to the roof at the behest of their humans. Zelda ducked into one of the stalls with Link as Aepon went inside his own stall, understanding that he had to make himself scarce. His broken chest prevented him from flying to the roof like the others. “Be quiet,” Link reminded him, a finger on his lips.

“Link,” Zelda whispered to him.

“Hmm?”

“Let’s stick together, okay?”

“Of course. Always.”

For the next few minutes they all sat there quietly, waiting for who knew what, as the sounds of fighting grew louder and louder. Screams and shouts in the distance became constant; people ran in groups all over, their feet pounding against the ground, either trying to help or trying to escape. Bangs and  _shwings_  and the  _twangs_ or crossbows and bows could be heard if one listened hard enough. And in the middle of it all came the laughter, the yelling, the cheering. Link had never seen a pirate before; in his mind came an image of a greasy, burly, hairy man astride a raggedy gray Loftwing, clutching swords and knives and clubs. He tried not to think about how much damage was being caused, or how many people and Loftwings had been hurt.  _They’re just here to steal,_ he tried to reassure himself.  _They don’t care about us as long as we stay out of the way._

But the image of the limp Loftwing in free fall, its rider falling from its back as the two pirates chased them out of the sky, would not leave his head. His heart throbbed erratically, its hammering able to be felt without even a hand on his chest, and he shook all over. His mouth was dry as bone, and he kept swallowing. Beside him, Zelda was pale and turning her crowbar over and over in her hands.

He swallowed, hands shaking, and tried to think of what his battle plan was. First of all, protecting Aepon and Zelda was absolute priority, and then, he supposed, the other kids and Shrike. He’d never used his sword maneuvers on people he actually intended to hurt, though; it’d all been practice or play. Was there a way to simply harm, not kill? How could he do this without drawing blood? Suddenly he began to feel scared, really truly scared; here he was in a situation that surely would end up with either him or a stranger being gutted, and he was quite sure the odds of surviving were strongly against himself. He didn’t want to get hurt, and he didn’t want  _to_ hurt.

They heard the fluttering of wings and tensed up, but it was only a singular pair, and a Loftwing, snow-white and rider-less, landed beside the infirmary, rasping quietly. “Colpa!” Loriki called delightedly, and made to run out to it, but then stopped himself. The Loftwing did not jump to the top of the infirmary like the others did; instead it went to stand at the corner of the building, immobile and stiff. For some reason, it did not have a harness on.

“Make it go on the roof,” Pelica hissed at Loriki.

“I’m trying,” he whimpered.

Then they all stiffened as they heard running footsteps pounding into the dirt, coming rapidly closer. Link’s heart beat faster as it drew near; he prayed fervently for them to simply pass by, but then they grew so close as to be undeniable, and his heart leapt into his throat as someone burst into the infirmary, knocking over a table in aggressive haste. Pelica and Shrike simultaneously burst out, weapons raised above their heads and bellowing a war cry, before the figure shrank back and gasped, “Waitwaitwaityouidiots, it’s me! Where’s Loriki?”

Loriki immediately popped up from his hiding spot, squeaking, “I’m here!”

Magpei staggered over to him, sweeping him up in a bone-crushing hug. “Thank … the Goddess, I was so … worried,” he panted. “Also … I – need – to –  _breathe.”_

“Why are you breathing so hard?”

“I ran … the whole way here! Mom and Dad tried to keep me … inside so I kind of jumped out the window. Er … I think I twisted my ankle when I landed. Ow. Oh,  _owww_.”

“Yes yes, touching touching, now  _quiet down!”_  Shrike snapped at them when Loriki began to loudly fret over his brother’s ankle. “Did anyone follow you?”

“No one. I had to dodge some pirates, though,” he huffed out, to the collective incredulity of everyone.

“What do you mean?” Shrike demanded.

Magpei looked around at them all, still breathing hard. He was shaking and clutching Loriki like he was a lifeline. “They, ah,” he started, his voice breaking. “They’re everywhere. Just breaking into houses, dragging people out, burning things. I tried to sneak by but some of them saw me and started chasing me. I lost them, though,” he said hurriedly when Loriki gave him a terrified look, “and they didn’t touch me. I’m fine, I swear.”

Shrike nodded grimly. “Figures they’d start away from the Academy, in case we’d left some Knights behind,” he growled. “They’ll have their fun by the Light Tower and spread over here.” He stopped and sniffed the air. “Do I smell burning?”

“They set the Bazaar on fire,” Magpei told him, and Link turned to Zelda fearfully, clutching his sword. The Bazaar was within sight of the infirmary, not even a five-minute walk away. He thought of all the shops set up there, all the staples of a single person’s day, of Luv and Bertie and their unnamed baby.  _What if they were still in there?_ he wanted to shout, but he couldn’t summon the energy to voice it. The others were probably thinking it, anyway; no need to stir up more fear. Thinking of them and the possibility that they or more people were trapped made him want to puke.

The silence resumed. Shrike’s sword glinted in the moonlight as his leg bounced in agitation. Minutes stretched on, and Link started to feel the first glimmerings of hope. Maybe, just maybe, if the Knights discovered the ruse at Bluegrand, they could flock back over here as quickly as possible and drive the pirates out. Maybe they were already on their way. Maybe Link and the others would spend this whole night without seeing a single pirate.

Link thought he could see a Chu slowly gliding its way across the grass in the distance, and realized it was full-on nighttime.  _Good,_ he thought venomously.  _I hope they all get their faces chewed off by Remlits._

“Look,” he heard Loriki say quietly. “She came.”

There was a pause, and then Magpei said, “Huh,” in reply. He didn’t sound happy.

“She came when I called.”

“I know.”

“I mean, maybe she could be-“

“Shut the hell up, both of you,” Pelica moaned. “I literally cannot stand your voices anymore. We’re trying not to get killed.”

“Screw off,” Magpei snapped. “We’ll talk if we want.”

As a scathing whisper fight ensued, Zelda turned to Link. “We have more of a chance if we stay hidden until they turn their backs to us, and then we’ll whack ‘em in the heads or something.”

Link stared at her. “What?” she demanded, then looked bashful. “I thought it was a good strategy.”

“No, uh, it is,” Link stammered, and began to edge away with exaggerated motions. “It’s just, wow, Zelda, I’ve never noticed how scary you are-“

She nudged him with her elbow, smiling nervously. “Shut it.”

Shrike snapped his fingers. Everyone fell utterly silent, staring at him.

He was glaring into the darkness, looking deep into the shadows with such venom that his lip curled, his eyes narrowed, and Link took a little longer than the second he normally would have to drag his eyes away and see what he was looking at. He then realized that he hadn’t heard anyone running by in a while, until now.

Light, rushing footsteps pattered against the dirt outside, accompanied by the distinct laugh of a low male voice. Link’s entire body shook, from his ribs to his stomach to his hands, shuddering as he listened to them draw closer, and suddenly he knew that  _this was it, this was them._ They were here. Zelda’s hand closed on his wrist.

Shrike stood. He held his sword in his left hand. “Stay back,” he called calmly, as if he was inviting them. “This building is occupied.”

The dull  _thunk_  of wood lightly hitting skin began a rhythmic pattern. Three figures melted out of the darkness, gliding forward casually like they were having a stroll. When the moon peeked out from behind a cloud, they were rendered visible, and Link drank them in.

He’d expected muscular, burly brutes covered in scabs and scars and wearing ridiculous hats. The people he saw looked so normal it was frightening. The one in the lead was a man flanked by another man and a woman. They were thin and wiry, and their hair was long and unkempt, but other than some faded clothes and patchwork they looked enough like civilians that he wouldn’t have batted an eye if he’d passed them on the street.

Link kept looking between them, Shrike, and Zelda, opening and closing his mouth, wanting to ask but not daring to, just to verify, that these were indeed the people they’d been dreading for the past long hour. They looked  _too_ normal, if a little bedraggled.

“Is it?” one of them called out conversationally. “Anyone else home?”

“I’m the only one around,” Shrike said back, just as casual. “Not many neighbors; I’m a grumpy guy. But this happens to be my house, so if I were you I would turn myself around and walk the other way.”

The woman barked out a laugh. “If you were us?” the lead man repeated, incredulous mirth creeping into his voice. “That’s cute. That really is. Now, uh, that’s a nice sword there, eh?”

“It’d be a pity to get it dirty,” Shrike said innocently.

_Please,_ Link prayed silently, his lips moving soundlessly.  _Please, go. Leave. Move on._

“Oooh!” the three pirates chorused, laughing and giving each other looks. “Cocky! I bet you’ve never swung a sword in your goddamn life.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Oh, shut it,” the lead man snapped. “Step aside and you won’t get hurt. Other people in your city didn’t listen, and you don’t want to know what happened to them.”

Shrike tilted his head, listening. “Oh, believe me. I heard. Not very pretty noises, are they?”

“No, they aren’t,” the leader agreed with exaggerated sympathy. “So unless you want to join the choir, make yourself scarce.”

_Please._

“Mmm… .” Shrike stared at him, then at his sword, and then shrugged, the blade swinging to the side with his slack hand. “…  _Nah.”_

_Oh, Goddess._

The leader growled low in his throat, rushing forward; Link’s heart leapt into his throat as the pirate charged the motionless Shrike. He couldn’t tear his eyes away.

The man was nearly upon Shrike, his arm raised, the blade coming down, when Shrike’s sword arm whipped up, blocking the blow and connecting the two, still and ringing and momentous. Then Shrike raised his leg, bending at the knee, and kicked out, his foot catching the man in his lower stomach and sending him flying backwards. The man skidded back on his toes and landed hard on his stomach, heaving, as Shrike twirled his blade in his hand and started to laugh.

_He’s insane!_ Link thought feverishly, and for the first time it was in delight.  _He’s effing crazy!_

The two pirates remaining barreled towards Shrike; the doctor ducked below the swing of the woman and swept the flat edge of his sword under the legs of the man. The pirate landed hard on his rear, a grunt popping out of his throat, before Shrike turned and slammed the flat of his blade on his head; he flopped backwards and did not move again.

The woman turned, her sword whistling through the air, but Shrike swung up with his blade and glanced it away. Then he jumped close to her, reared his head back, and slammed his forehead into hers so hard she crumpled to the ground, moaning. Then he hopped forward on one foot and swung his boot into her stomach hard enough to make her retch. “And  _stay_ down!” he roared.

“Holy shit,” Magpei muttered.

Shrike turned to them with a flourish and bowed, his sword hand swept out to the side. “That was exactly one year of sword training at its finest, and don’t-“

A multitude of Loftwing shrieks filled the air; Shrike whirled around, crouched in a battle stance, his eyes on the sky. Three Loftwings with no riders emerged from the darkness and, diving down, skidded to a stop before their partners, wings mantled above their backs and tails swishing in distress. As one they locked onto Shrike and crouched down, wings spread, hissing savagely.

Link wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting with them either. They were thinner and a little more ragged than Loftwings he’d seen previously, and patches of feathers were missing, obviously scar tissue from previous fights. They all held saddles on their backs, a feature Link was confused about, and their sides were covered in sacks and bags, obviously meant to be filled with the fruits of their people’s pillage.

“Took you three long enough,” Shrike called. “I mean, really, your humans get pummeled and you arrive after the fact? What kind of guardians are you? You’re lucky I didn’t choose to kill them.”

The Loftwing that had hovered over the woman screamed and made to charge him; Shrike tensed, hand on his sword but eyes wide, and Link experienced a moment of panic –  _How is he going to hurt a bird? He saves them for a living! -_  but several shrieks much louder than the bird’s cry cut it off. With loud  _thumps,_ Cofana, Giusto, Nohan, and the pink Loftwing leapt down from the roof, rising tall behind Shrike as one, a supportive wall of beak and talon. The pirate Loftwings backed up a few paces.

“I didn’t ask her to do that,” Pelica said in shock, and Link was about to tell her to shut it when Aepon rasped and trotted out of his stall, joining the others. “Aepon!” he hissed, panicking, but Zelda held him back from blowing his cover.

_I didn’t ask him to do that either,_ Link thought, watching his bird join the others in rallying behind Shrike, who didn’t even look back, as though he’d been expecting them. Link was confused, and searched his bird’s head for answers; Aepon’s mind had hardened and solidified into one singular thought:  _protect the niceman._

_Niceman?_ Link thought to himself, but it quickly made sense to him; as antagonistic as Shrike had been towards the people he worked with, he treated birds with utmost care, professionalism, and fondness. Of course they all loved him and wanted to protect him without even being asked.

Then the three pirate Loftwings bowed their heads and, latching their beaks onto the clothing of their humans, backed away dragging them as another set of wings filled the air, and a fourth Loftwing hurtled toward them, its rider pressed into the thick feathers. The human sat up once the Loftwing landed, its talons digging deep scratches into the ground, before jumping off and standing up.

Link clutched Zelda’s sleeve. The Loftwing was large, dark, and scarred, and the human was a woman, tall and dark, with white dreadlocked hair. She wore a sweeping blue coat with white trim. Her bearing was one of authority and poise; Link had a feeling that Shrike wouldn’t deal with this one quite as easily.

“Oh, hello!” Shrike called jovially, obviously not sensing the shift. “You must not have heard. This building is mine, and I will thank you kindly to keep your grubby hands off it.”

The woman laughed, stroking her Loftwing’s beak gently, before sauntering over, one hand on her hip. She spoke in a low voice. “Hello,” she replied, raising her blade. “‘M afraid you won’t deter me so easily, darling. ’Ve flown all the way here, an’ I don’t plan to leave without both my arms full.”

“Oh-hoo!” Shrike hooted, teetering back and forth with his arms spread to an imaginary audience. “Someone’s sure of herself! Miss, I would check out  _those_  six-“ He pointed then at the moaning pirates, the cowering Loftwings. “-before you make any hasty decisions. Go away.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time ’ve seen this sorry lot sprawled about on the ground,” she scoffed, walking confidently forward. “Now, shall we start this little brawl?”

“Oh, this won’t even be a brawl,” Shrike snorted, strolling forward just as casually; the Loftwings behind him made to follow him, but he spoke sharply to them, and they receded back to the pavilion edge. “Just fly away, ugly. The Knights will be here any minute. Bluegrand isn’t that far away, and your ruse wasn’t all that clever. But, oh!” he gasped, covering his mouth with wide eyes. “That wasn’t …  _your_  idea, was it? Oh, I’m sorry, miss, er …”

“Osprina,” the woman said proudly, then chuckled. “Oh, please. I guarantee I’ll leave with what I came for!” She slashed at him then, and the blow was so swift that Link almost started forward, and he heard one of the other kids cry out before shutting up. Shrike twisted out of the way, dragging forth his own sword to swing at her side. She blocked it instantly, shoving him back hard. “I’ll admit, ’m pretty disappointed ‘n your skills after all you’ve talked.”

“Like I said,” Shrike grunted, stabbing at her shoulder. “Exactly  _one_  year of sword training.”

She stepped to the side. “Pardon me? ’Ve been fightin’ all my life!”

Zelda turned to Link in a panic. “We have to do something!” she whispered feverishly.

“I know,” he breathed, trying to watch the Loftwings and Shrike at the same time, wanting to run but unable to look away, as though his supervision made a difference about whether Shrike was hurt or not. The three pirate Loftwings were beginning to edge around the fight, weaving their heads back and forth and hissing, and sidle toward the kids’ birds, who responded in vicious kind. Osprina’s titanic Loftwing was standing behind her impassively, watching the fight.

Shrike’s blows were becoming more desperate than anything; Link had had enough training to recognize that: the wide eyes, the wider swings, the gritted teeth. Link realized that for all his talk, when it came to a legitimate opponent, Shrike had no idea what he was doing, and his only fuel was his manic stubbornness. He heard a mild commotion and looked back; Magpei was trying to get up and charge them, but Loriki had his arms locked around his brother’s waist, dragging him back. “Don’t, don’t, please, don’t!” he was squeaking, desperately trying to be quiet.

Pelica was looking back at them too, her mouth opening to admonish them, but she and Link saw what was behind the struggling boys at the same time; Link saw her eyes widen and her jaw go slack with horror. Link grabbed Zelda’s shoulder, his fingers digging into her skin. “Zelda,” he breathed. “Look.” And she did.

Four, five, six pirates were slinking toward them from the direction perpendicular to Shrike’s fight, utterly silent. Link could not see their profiles, only their featureless shapes as they crept closer, hunched over, long weapons clutched in their hands. Praying that they had not been seen, Link pointed at them, trying to catch the other kids’ eyes. Between Pelica and him, everyone soon grew aware and froze, terrified.

_Shrike!_ Link wanted to call him, but he was currently blocking a rain of blows from the pirate he faced, and a distraction could cost him his life. Their Loftwings had not noticed, distracted as they were by the pirate Loftwings, who had now begun to rush them and engage them in a scuffling, squalling, feather-flying fight.

Locked in by fear, Link watched as the first of the sneaks paused as he or she peered into the darkness of the space; somehow they were even more frightening without details to discern, as though they were something inhuman. Then they slunk inside in single file, pausing at shelves and things to pocket random articles, slowly making their way toward the building proper. Link barely breathed; he prayed and prayed that the other kids were being silent, waiting tense as a bowstring for one of the wretches to discover them and attack.

Pelica was nearest to them as they filed past towards Shrike’s door, and Link could see the whites of her eyes flashing as she hunched against the rack of tools. One of the pirates paused on the other side of the rack, running a hand along the many instruments, and Link felt so nervous for Pelica, so jittery for her, another child, that he wanted to rush out there and clobber the pirate before it could see her.

Before he knew it he felt himself tensing up, his feet centering beneath him, as though he was making to rise, even though he hadn’t sent any message to his legs to do so. Autonomously, he rose to a half-crouch, the darkness of the stall hiding his movement. His vision narrowed; his ears blocked out all sound, and his hands ceased their shaking. The pirate near Pelica became his only priority, his only focus, the only tie to the physical world he needed to know about. He forgot about Shrike and Zelda and Aepon, forgot about the pirates to his right trying to kick down the door, forgot his own name. He held his sword, and he was full of light, full of air, full of  _coura-_

With a shrieking bellow, Pelica leapt out from her hiding place and swung the poker she held into the neck of the pirate, who fell against the rack, going down with it in a loud clatter; Link was knocked out of his reverie and he stumbled back against the wall, his vision spotting.

Nandu stepped out from his dark corner and slammed the end of his walking stick into the hip of the pirate trying to break down the door; the woman toppled. Zelda burst from her hiding spot, swinging her crowbar menacingly; Magpei and Loriki vaulted over the counter as one and charged, yelling like fools.

The pirates cried out in surprise and swung their weapons in confusion, knocking over shelves and stands and jars. Link ducked and blocked what he could, sure that no one could even see well enough to aim his or her weapons properly. A black shape advanced on him menacingly, and Link grit his teeth and swung at it clumsily, feeling more alive and sensitive than ever before; the pirate leapt away and backed off. Link’s nerves were so on edge his skin felt painful. He could hear the others grunting and crying out as they either dodged blows, ran from them, or delivered them; Link could not tell who had or hadn’t been hit. He edged forward, eyes wide, trying to see someone he could take down.

Though all the commotion, Link heard a roar, “No-  _no! GET AWAY FROM THEM!”_ He spared a glance to see Shrike, utterly disregarding his opponent, his sword hand limp at his side and his other hand outstretched, as though to pull them all out of his infirmary.

At the distraction Osprina promptly lunged forward, aiming for his chest; Shrike must have heard her coming and flung himself clumsily to the side, but he was not fast enough. As it swept around, the sword managed to slice him open from shoulder to opposite rib, and he staggered back, a hand clutching his chest.

Link stumbled forward, mouth open in horror; he heard someone yell Shrike’s name from behind him, but couldn’t figure out who. His feet carried him forward, unsteady and tripping at first, and then rage grew in him like a wave. He began to run, and by the time he could think to regret it, he was already charging, sword raised, at Osprina.

“Link!” he heard Zelda cry out.

Osprina laughed as he approached and slowed. “A child? This’s all you got?” She raised her sword, leveling it at him. “Come on then, boy!”

“Link, get back!” Shrike snapped at him from the side, hunched over. His hand and shirt were drenched in blood.

Two angry Loftwing screeches sounded behind Link, and he glanced back to see Aepon and Nohan breaking away from their scuffle and running after him, looking equally incensed; Nohan fluttered a bit, then took off, flying low and loud circles around Link’s head. Link was overcome with relief to see them until Osprina looked back at her Loftwing, who then took flight. It began to chase after Nohan, extending its talons to claw into his neck. Nohan gave a strangled cry and flapped hard to get away. Aepon ran under them, trying to jump up and bite the Loftwing.

Link edged to the side, suddenly losing hold of his grasp of several years’ worth of sword training. He raised his blade at her, trying not to shake, but oh, she looked so much  _taller_  up close. He saw how heavily scarred she was then, and the coolness with which she regarded him. Her blade was laced with blood.

She whistled sharply, then, and Link paused, unsure of how to respond to that. He heard the beating of wings behind him, and they were far too close for comfort. He barely had time to flinch before huge talons latched onto his shoulders, sharp and unforgiving, and he yelled, dropping his sword in panic as his feet were lifted off the ground.

Wing-beats clapped by his ears as the ground dwindled to a surface much too far away; his spine stretched painfully as it supported all of his weight, and his legs swung heavily. Then his vision blurred, tilting slightly as they careened to the side, and Link stared bug-eyed as the edge of Skyloft drifted by.

The Loftwing promptly let go.

Link’s stomach flew into his throat as the wind began to pick up, pushing against his legs as he plummeted. He let out a strangled cry, not having enough air for a true shout; he heard Zelda wail,  _“LINK!”_ and then his head felt like it was exploding from panic not his own, from red panic, crimson panic, as he looked left at the last second and saw Aepon, beak open and screaming, running at full speed toward the edge. Then Link fell past.

_I’m going to die, I’m going to die._ All he could see were the spinning stars and the twilit sky and the dark mass of Skyloft as it slid slowly past, all a shaky blur as the air tossed him violently from side to side. A ragged moan slipped out of his throat, for he was unable to be quiet but could not muster the energy to scream. Tears streamed out of his eyes and into his hair, half from terror and half from the wind, and he curled himself into a ball, rotating onto his side, feeling the wind try and pull his limbs apart.

He concentrated with all his might, squeezed shut his eyes;  _STAY!_ he begged of the thundercloud, knowing that if Aepon tried to save him they would only die together, and oh but he wanted him to live, wouldn’t be able to bear it for that short time if the bird chose to fall with him and die with the boy he loved.

Swift wing-beats by his head; he flailed, hunching over, spine tingling, waiting for a wickedly hooked beak or gigantic talons to gore him. He felt something rush past his feet and jerked them away; then it felt like something punched him from below, like hitting that solitary island upon which he and Aepon had fallen those weeks ago, but this surface was shaggy and organic and small. He clutched the Loftwing’s strangely wide back with desperate, stinging fingers, the smell of dusty feathers swirling before his face-  _No, no, you idiot, I told you to stay!_ –and then felt the muscles pull underneath its skin as its wings rose and fell laboriously, bringing them up.

_You’re not Aepon._ His heart pounded and he panted, disbelieving of his salvation until they shot above the edge of Skyloft, above the skirmishing pirates; it seemed the kids and marauders had both gravitated out from under the roof and were fighting in the open air. He saw more than three motionless human figures lying on the ground and hoped to the Goddess that they were pirates. He caught sight of Nandu and a pirate in close quarters, and heard ringing slams as Shrike pounded at Osprina again and again, his blows generating blue sparks as she blocked. Various Loftwings were scattered around, writhing and twisting and gnashing as they fought. And running underneath Link, croaking and crowing in a panic, blessedly remaining on the ground, was Aepon.

It was too dark to make out the color of the Loftwing carrying him as they swooped low over the grass a ways away from the nearest fight. The bird flared its wings, bringing them to a near standstill in the air, before suddenly dipping its right shoulder; Link tumbled off and into the dirt with a grunt, and then Aepon was upon him, warbling in distress, shoving his beak into his boy’s face, panic and concern radiating from his head. Link looked round, his eyes dry and cheeks chilly and windswept; his savior was nowhere to be seen.

Link turned. Shrike was charging at Osprina, swinging his sword, drops of blood raining from his chest. Her pirate Loftwing promptly swooped in, tackling Shrike with one talon before keeping him pinned. It hissed, wings partially spread to keep balance as Shrike struggled, kicking and reaching for his sword, which had been knocked only a mere foot from his reach. Osprina climbed onto her bird’s back, holding her arm, which had been injured. “Let’s take this 'ere boy for a nice flight!” she cried.

The kids’ Loftwings let out a collective shriek of outrage at Shrike’s downfall, but the pirate Loftwings blocked the way to assist him, and they could do little more than croak and warble and give reedy wails of frustration. Shrike struggled, trying to throw the leg off of him.

Osprina’s Loftwing curled its talons as it lifted off the ground, flapping hard to get upward. “Keep them busy, men!”

The few pirates remaining cheered in agreement and returned their attentions to the kids, who looked just as horrified as Link felt. He scrambled in the grass, desperately looking for his sword, trying to remember where he’d dropped it, before horrified awe forced him to look up at them. Shrike struggled uselessly, gripping the talons of the giant bird as he was carried up and up, until the darkness swallowed them and they became silhouettes before the stars.

Then they all heard “Have a pleasant trip as you  _fall!“_  The great bird released Shrike from its grip, letting out a cry as it swooped upwards. Someone screamed as Shrike fell backwards, picking up speed, his arms limp.

At the same time that Link’s mouth opened to shout something, anything, and at the same time he thought dumbly,  _He doesn’t have a Loftwing alive to catch him,_ stars began to disappear and reappear directly over Osprina and her hovering bird as a dark shape hurtled vertically downward toward them. On its present course, it would slam directly into them.

The pirate bird sighted the figure and attempted to fly out of the way as quickly as possible; as the shape hurtled ground-ward it clipped its obstacle’s wing. Osprina and her Loftwing wobbled in the air, but unfortunately missed the brunt of the blow and managed to keep flying. Osprina clung, shouting out as the passing Loftwing grazed them, "Moronic bugger!”

Link’s mystery savior swiftly overtook Shrike, banking underneath him and jerking slightly as the man landed hard. It fluttered to the ground and, instead of crudely dumping Shrike on the ground like it had done Link, curled its legs underneath it and crouched, turning its head around to regard the doctor. In moonlight and her stillness Link could finally identify her. “Ebirda?!” he blurted out incredulously.

The village idiot turned her golden head to look at him silently as Shrike groaned and climbed off her back. “Ohh, I stained your feathers,” he grumbled, clutching his blood-soaked chest again and gesturing to her back, which was streaked with red. “Sorry.”

A horn sounded, distant and echoing, a mournful, impossibly hopeful sound; the pirates froze, and the kids backed up, weapons raised. Link turned; the wall of pirate Loftwings circling Skyloft were dashing back and forth in panicked agitation. Streams of birds were billowing out of the town like plumes of multicolored smoke to join their brethren in a great flock, voices and caws and rasps all melding into one singular unified ululation as the pirates began to panic.

From the ground rose a cry as all of the pirate Loftwings dove for their partners. Pelica pointed and shouted, “Look!” and they all obeyed to see a great flock of birds rapidly approaching the city, flying in close formation. The pirates immediately abandoned their plunder and leapt aboard their Loftwings, taking flight and fleeing, joining the great cloud of their comrades.

Osprina yelled, “Retreat!” before swiftly disappearing into the masses. “Yeah, you’d  _better_  run!” Magpei yelled after her, waving his fist.

Link whirled around, mouth moving soundlessly, looking for them all. Nandu was sitting down in a daze, Pelica’s head was bleeding, and Magpei was leaning heavily on Loriki because of his twisted ankle, but they were all mercifully alive. Zelda dashed toward him, tears brimming in her eyes; he went forth to embrace her, and they held each other for a long time, shaking.

Shrike stood, weaving, gazing up at the sky. The entire front of his shirt was shining dark red and sticking to his skin, but he didn’t seem to notice as he watched the pirates flap away in an undulating frantic mass. He chuckled. “Excellent timing,  _exceelleeeent_ timing,” he muttered, rubbing his fingers together, the prints upon it thrown into sharp relief by the bloodstains. “Could have been earlier, but we can’t all be perfect.”

Then he caught sight of Link, and started toward him with wide eyes. “So she caught you?” he blurted out, and barked out a short laugh.

“Aw, you cared,” Magpei whined, simpering.

“Cared? I need someone to clean my windows, after all! I ain’t doing that myself, no sir.”

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

When they’d reached Bluegrand and found no pirate activity, the Knights knew the marauders had given up, so they’d turned tail and flown back at a leisurely pace, only to meet the dozens of unfortunates who had escaped the surprise attack unscathed and unmolested and flown towards Bluegrand for help. From there they’d charged at full speed, driving the pirates out; they were a smaller force, but they had the superior weaponry and tactical advantage by far, and the pirates would lose many to face them.

The raiders had flown high above when they’d left Skyloft and due east, towards the floating rock desert where few civilizations made their stand and shady bunches tended to gather. The Knights had split their force in half: one group to chase the pirates off, and another to descend unto Skyloft and assess the damage.

The pirates had set up a perimeter around Skyloft, refusing to allow anyone to escape, before sending in most of their comrades to take what they wished. They’d barged into homes, shops, and places of worship indiscriminately, largely leaving the residents alone besides roughing them up a bit and, at times, taking jewelry directly from off their persons. In some places where they’d been barricaded out they’d set the residence aflame out of spite and moved on.

In the end, dozens of homes and armories had been stripped of worth, several more had been razed to the ground, and six people and eleven Loftwings had been killed when they resisted or tried to attack the pirates. A good number of pirates, however, had been successfully overpowered and held hostage by civilians, and they were promptly imprisoned once the Knights returned along with their protective Loftwings. Quite a number of pirates were found dead or dying on the ground as Remlits savaged them in a rabid pack, obviously having not anticipated the pets’ violent transformation at nighttime.

The first three people Shrike had taken down were among those imprisoned, as well as one pirate who’d tried infiltrating the house who was moaning and bleeding; a pair of shears had buried itself blade-first into the back of his shoulder and was lodged there so firmly they couldn’t get it out.

Upon seeing this, they all turned to stare wide-eyed at the only person who’d been carrying shears during the attack. Loriki gazed back at them all and looked like he wanted to melt into the ground. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered, “he was attacking Magpei and I just- I don’t know, I ran up behind him and-“

“Holy  _wow,”_ Pelica breathed, edging away from him. “I am staying fifty-three feet away from  _you_ from now on.”

The place was a mess. While no one had actually made it inside Shrike’s house, the wall-less infirmary part had been ransacked to a degree that made walking among the wreckage impossible. Shattered glass was sprinkled everywhere, multicolored fluids and solutions were splashed on nearly every surface, and bits of wood and metal and plastic were strewn across the floor. Shelves and racks of tools had been knocked over, as well as the decorative string of feathers that ran all along the square roof. Shrike immediately began howling with displeasure at the sight of the feathers’ demise, and fixed it with a haste that was almost undignified.

Link and the other kids were given care by Shrike, who gave Nandu some ice for his temple, slapped a bandage on Pelica’s head, and, with much moaning over how much it was an inconvenience to cater to someone who didn’t belong anywhere near the infirmary in the first place, put a brace on Magpei’s ankle. Then he kept poking and prodding Link, making sure he was all right despite his protests that he was just fine except for some scratches and holy  _Goddess_ Shrike’s chest was covered in blood and why wasn’t he directing any attention to himself?

When he voiced this aloud, Shrike slowly looked down at his chest, then back up. “Oh,” he said. “I forgot about that. But who cares. It’s shallow, look at it. Not even bleeding anymore.”

“That pirate almost killed you.”

“But she didn’t! Good thing Ebirda was around, or you and I would be messy stains on the ground, eh?” Shrike nodded in satisfaction. Ebirda had left by then, presumably to go see Ospren, who’d returned with the other Knights. She flew rarely and clumsily, so it was obvious that he wouldn’t want to take her along. Link hadn’t had the opportunity to give her a thankful headscratch. Never in a million years would he have imagined her saving his life.

Surprisingly, Shrike did not keep them there to clean up his place. “Go home,” he ordered them. “You’ve all earned it. Get on out of here. Rest up. I’ll get some Knights to help me, the lazy bastards.”

“Thank the Goddess,” Pelica mumbled, yawning hugely and with a load noise. “I am going to sleep for the next four  _years.”_

“I second that,” Nandu put in, still grimacing and holding ice to his head.

“Day off tomorrow, too,” Shrike said to them, to tired but full-hearted cheers.

“Look,” Zelda murmured to Link, nudging him with her shoulder. He turned toward the open sky to see the first few light shades of sunrise peeking over the horizon. “We stayed up all night.”

“Wow, we’re so rebellious.”

“We’re going home, guys. ‘Night,” Magpei called as he hobbled past, his arm slung over Loriki, who was supporting him. Giusto walked behind them, his black-tipped tail swishing happily. “Er, morning, I guess.”

“I’m going home too,” Nandu said, and then turned to Pelica. “Pelica, walk me home.”

Pelica stared at him. “What?”

“Do you not want to?”

Pelica blinked for a second, then started to grin. “Forward. I like that.” She took his arm with utterly no hesitation and off they went.

“Well that came out of nowhere,” Link said dryly, trying to catch Shrike’s eye to do … something. Wave him goodbye, perhaps, or thank him for protecting them. Shrike was too busy ranting to some Knights for falling for such a ruse, however, so Link let it go for now.

Instead he went up to Aepon, who was napping in his stall. Aepon roused immediately as he drew near and reached out his neck for him, rasping quietly. “Hey, you,” he murmured, hugging Aepon’s large head and stroking the feathers over his eye. “Quite an adventure we had, huh?”

The Crimson Loftwing closed his eyes in response, obviously exhausted. Link shared his feeling. Apart from staying up all night, they’d all been panicked and stressed, and their lives had been at risk. He was still having trouble digesting the fact that he could have died, and Aepon could have too. He and the other Loftwings had sustained minor scratches in their scuffle, but nothing more serious, as they had outnumbered the pirate Loftwings greatly.

Link wanted to contemplate just whether he was cut out for this Knight business, but he decided to save it for tomorrow. For now he just wanted to sleep the day away. Zelda took his arm, and Link gave Aepon a goodbye kiss on his forehead before walking with her.

He heard his name being called and turned. Shrike was standing by his door, having finally changed out of his blood-soaked shirt, and was scrutinizing him. For a few seconds they stood regarding each other without a word. Finally Shrike said, “Thank you,” and withdrew inside his home.

“Wow,” Zelda said. “That’s progress.”

The trudge up the stairs left them shaking from exhaustion by the time they stumbled into the Academy, and then they were promptly ambushed by the two Professors and Headmaster Gaepora, who picked them both up in a backbreaking hug and began ranting about how they should  _not_  have fought and they were so reckless and obsessed with being heroes and what if Daddy’s little girl had been hurt or taken away or killed?

They managed to finally extricate themselves from the three adults with complaints that they were tired and in shock and staggered into the hallway, shoulders bumping. The rest of the Knights-in-training were talking loudly in the cafeteria, obviously excited, and Link almost got mad.  _They_ had been safely barricaded inside the Academy.  _They_ didn’t know what it was like to be huddled down in the dark, straining not to make a single noise as thugs slunk around like beetles all over the town.

They got to Link’s door and he turned to Zelda, blinking tiredly. “I’m glad we didn’t get kidnapped by the big bad pirates.”

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “I would’ve joined them and become their queen.”

“Are you kidding? Did you see that tall scarred chick? She would’ve eaten you alive.”

“Probably,” Zelda sighed, then fell forward onto his chest and hugged him. “G’night.”

“’Night,” he mumbled, but didn’t let her go. He remembered the darkness of the infirmary, the way he’d been unable to tell friend from foe. In that environment, every dark shape became an adversary, and any weapon wielded could have been  _the one,_ the one to end it all, for him or for her. The thought made him shudder. “Hey, you want to sleep over or something?” he blurted out.

He heard Zelda hum by his ear. “Girls aren’t allowed to stay in the guy’s rooms.”

“I’m not a guy, I’m a  _gentleman.”_ He frowned. “Come on, please? We’ve had a long day.”

“Your bed is small.”

“Guess I’ll have to sleep on top of you, then.”

“Link!”

“Kidding! I was kidding! I’ll sleep on the floor if you want.” He sighed. “I just … I don’t know, I don’t feel like being alone right now.”

She paused, leaning back to study him, then smiled. “If someone finds us, this was  _all_  your fault and you coerced me.”

“More like I  _seduced_  you,” Link replied, giddily making sure the coast was clear before opening his door and dodging the playful kick she sent flying his way. He closed the door behind them. “You’re going to have to sneak back up to your room sometime. I can’t imagine the chewing-out I’ll get if they find out I snuck  _two_ people into my room when they shouldn’t be there.”

She took off her shoes and placed them neatly by the door, yawning, and went to sit on his bed. “You know what, Link? You were right. I didn’t really want to be alone right now either.”

He kicked off his own shoes, sending them flying to the other wall, not bothering to put them away and collapsed face first on his bed next to Zelda. “This is it. This is the day I overtake my record of sixteen hours of sleeping. Quick, Zelda, the time. We’ve got to keep track.”

He wasn’t paying any attention to what he was saying and he doubted Zelda could hear him, since his mouth was pressed against his bedspread. He heard her laugh and give him a nudge. “Move over.”

He groaned and rolled to one side of the bed, burrowing under his covers and closing his eyes, facing the wall. “Do you snore? I can’t remember whether you snore. You’d better not snore.”

“I don’t snore, Link,  _you_  do,” Zelda said, getting under the covers by his side and lying on her back. “When’s the last time we actually slept in the same room?”

“Uh… .” He was already drifting off; not much of her words were reaching him.

“I think we were twelve or something. We used to have sleepovers all the time, remember?”

“Mmm.”

“Link?”

“Mmm?”

She was silent for a little bit, then said, “You know, you were really brave.”

“What?”

“Making us all stand up for Shrike, I mean. Charging that woman- by the way, you must  _never ever_  do something that stupid again. You could’ve died.”

“I know.”

“You could’ve died,” she said again, softer this time, as though it was just dawning on her. “You almost did, too. If Ebirda hadn’t caught you-“

“Zelda,” he said quietly. “I’m all right. It all worked out.”

“Yes, but-“ She cut herself off, turning to him and hugging him tightly. “Aepon almost threw himself off the cliff, you know. I was trying to run and catch you, with Nohan, but they were blocking my way, and I just-“

She was becoming upset, and he, horrified. He turned to her quickly to see the threats of tears in her eyes and hugged her back. “Look at me. Look at how completely not-dead I am. See? Both of us are fine. Me with my dashing hair and you with your ridiculous ears. All good.”

She started laughing then, and the tremulousness faded away with every breath. “All right, I get it,” she sighed. “You’re such a pain sometimes.”

“Mmm.”

“Are you listening anymore?”

“Mm-mm.”

“All right, I get the hint,” she chuckled. “Good night, you doofus.”

“G’night.”

It was, of course, morning, but that did not matter to either of them. Neither did the fact that they had not moved from their embrace, and would fall asleep in each other’s arms.


	9. Polarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Link, if every person gets a bird, and every bird gets a person . . . what do you think the odds are of two personalities matching up badly?"

**Polarity**

Life went on. After the initial citywide cleanup effort, Skyloft resumed her natural paces as though the pirate attack had never happened. Reports of pirate strikes dried up like derelict wells, and the attack slowly faded into a solid but oft-forgotten fact in the minds of the citizens. They all knew about it, they kept talking about it, but the shock factor had worn off into something familiar.

Link slept through most of those two days, and managed not to get caught with Zelda in his room. They didn’t repeat the stunt, nor did they mention it again.

When Link returned to the infirmary with Zelda two days after the attack he found the place in pristine condition, with not a feather nor nail out of place. A long line of customers waited outside the shop, their Loftwings dozing or squabbling with other birds on the line, for there weren’t usually this many unfamiliar birds in close proximity. Surely most of the town were reeling from the attack and were utterly paranoid about their loved ones’ injuries. 

Aepon perked up immediately at the sight of Link and reached out his neck for him, rasping demandingly. Zelda wandered off toward the counter as Link chuckled and hugged his Loftwing. “Miss me, bud? Sorry I couldn’t visit yesterday. _Love_ what you’ve done with the place.”

 _“Good!”_ a voice thundered behind him, and Link jumped away with a yelp. Shrike was standing behind him, a smirk on his smug face. “Took only a few hours. I managed to rope in fourteen Knights to clean it all up!”

“Great,” Link said awkwardly, edging away. He wasn’t sure of how to act around Shrike now. He didn’t _want_ to like the guy, but he’d nearly died trying to protect him. It just added a layer of complexity that confused him. 

He looked around. Nandu was hanging out behind the counter as usual, giving a woman a jar of mushroom spores. Pelica was arguing loudly with another customer over whether her Loftwing was just fine or not and whether the owner was being paranoid about the pirate attack. Loriki, looking pathetic and miserable and shooting desperate looks at his brother, was currently being yelled at by the man who insisted that because his Loftwing was shedding a little more than usual, that meant the poor thing was surely dying. Unfortunately for him, Magpei was nodding off in a chair beside the Loftwing stalls, his ankle in a brace.

Link turned to Shrike. “You, uh, look better,” he said, indicating the front of his shirt, which didn’t look like it had a bandage underneath it.

Shrike waved a hand airily. “Oh, I’m fine. That was barely a scratch.”

“You were covered in blood.”

Shrike shrugged. “Just another day at my wacky infirmary, I suppose. Got to keep up with the place’s tradition of bodily harm. You there, girl! Leave that woman alone, that Loftwing’s got a genuine bona-fide sprain. And you, leave my thrall alone, he’s only- boy, do _not_ assault my client! Ugh, get to work,” he muttered to Link, moving to separate the suddenly awake and extremely angry Magpei and the client who’d been yelling at the harried Loriki, who was now cowering behind his twin. Link rolled his eyes and braced himself for the busy day.

It went along quite quickly, though hectically. Most of the clients were just paranoid about their birds and their mental or physical state after the attack, and often nothing was wrong. Sometimes, however, a Loftwing truly did have a problem due to stress or injury, such as the male who was pulling out all of his chest feathers because he was worried the pirates would return and carry of his human, or the female who’d been beaten with clubs when she’d tried to defend her own person and now possessed a slightly misshapen and very sore beak. 

Link just had to help move the customers along calmly and quickly, and it was leaving little time for any good hard thinking, and he was grateful for it. The past few days he’d been trying to think about the attack, to try to make sense of it, but he kept putting it off for the right time, though he had no idea when that might be. What better time was there to go through it all than when he’d been lying awake in bed all last night? What better time than when he’d been out walking with Zelda the day before, as they wandered in companionable silence between helping other people clean up after the raid? 

Try as he might, he just couldn’t stop thinking about it, but not in an all-encompassing way; it was more like something in the peripheral vision of his mind, something he was constantly aware of but couldn’t quite grasp, a bug buzzing incessantly by a window that he couldn’t swat or see or ignore. It bothered him relentlessly, like a cloud hanging over his head, and he felt lonely and full of ominous disquiet. Surely plowing right through the obstruction in his mind, throwing its contents into the air like leaves and letting them flutter and settle peacefully back to the flat plane of peace, would ease his bothersome apprehension. He just kept putting it off, as though gathering strength.

Of course, there was the other problem, and that was the local cripple. A glance in their direction told him Zelda had approached Magpei and was talking jovially with him. Link couldn’t stop noticing everything: the way Zelda was smiling and touching her fingers to her cheek, the way Magpei was grinning and gazing up at her, the way she kept gesturing to his ankle, raising her voice, probably praising him on how brave and courageous he was. 

Goddess, what was _wrong_ with Link? He shook himself out of his thoughts. What he needed to focus on was working, not stalking his . . . his . . .

What was Zelda to him, anyway? She’d been his best friend for as long as he could remember. She was a constant, stable part of his day. He kept thinking about that comment she’d made that one time, the one where she told him he wasn’t exactly a brother to her. What did that even _mean?_ How did brothers and sisters even act? 

Not many people on Skyloft had siblings, since it was commonly accepted that one kid was enough trouble for a couple; the only frames of reference Link had were a few kids in his class and, more immediately, Magpei and Loriki, and they had this weird one-looked-after-the-other dynamic going on and he didn’t particularly like them anyway. 

Did Link even look after Zelda? Not really - honestly he knew she could hold her own in any situation, save for really drastic ones. But the way his heart hammered when he thought about her in a dark pavilion with six or seven pirates . . . 

No, that was getting too far into the I-don’t-want-to-think-about-it territory, and he forced himself to pay attention to a client making small talk about his Loftwing’s diet . . . for about forty seconds before a double-voiced laugh reached his ears, and he turned his head – oh, but he tried so hard not to, he truly did – to see Zelda and Magpei seated side by side, laughing gaily over a joke Magpei had clearly just told- _I make her laugh more,_ Link thought savagely, and then wondered when this had become a contest. What did she see in him, anyway? He was just a rude, obnoxious, pompous idiot. A miniature Groose. The only thing he had going for him was that he had a nice face. _Link_ had a nice face _too._ Right?

All day he watched them sullenly as they sat together, chatting and giggling like idiots over whatever quip Magpei made, and the more their voices reached him the more Link fumed. _There’s no reason for this,_ he kept trying to tell himself. _What, are you jealous or something? Over Zelda getting cozy with some guy?_

Soon the clients trickled up and came to a stop around dinnertime; most of them had been paranoia cases, but some of them had actually been serious, and those were promptly taken care of. A dark brown Loftwing was admitted to the third stall under the pavilion with Aepon and Cofana for a broken leg and was to stay there a few days. He was very friendly, nibbling on the shoulders and sleeves of anyone who passed by good-naturedly, and by the end of the day everyone loved him. Fortunately for his owner, who was an adult, Shrike displayed no interest in employing her like he did Link and the rest.

Link was looking around for a chair to relax in – his feet were sore enough to feel like falling off – but a commotion drew his attention, and he glanced outside. A woman towered over Magpei, ranting at him angrily; Zelda fidgeted to the side. Link crept a little closer, eager to see Magpei getting in trouble.

“I _flew_ here,” Magpei mumbled, looking resolutely away from the woman and at his own feet. 

“That doesn’t matter,” she barked. “The doctor said to rest and not to strain that leg and I’m not paying any more Rupees for your stupid mistake. You’re coming home. _Now.”_

“I have to walk Loriki home.”

“He’s a big boy now, he knows the way,” the woman, presumably his mother, said condescendingly, “and you don’t help by treating him like a damn toddler. Goddess knows he doesn’t leave the house without you. You’re getting home and you’re not leaving.”

She reached fiercely for Magpei’s arm and he recoiled, flinching, bracing himself. His eyes grew wide, desperate; his voice rose a scratchy octave. “He _can’t,_ not- he can’t _go_ b-“

“Well, he’d better learn,” she snapped, grabbing for his arm again and catching it; her fingers dug into his skin, jerking him towards her. He whimpered in pain, stumbling over his bad leg, and he covered his face with his free arm, cowering. Link did not feel very happy anymore, watching this; his skin was starting to crawl. “Get on your bird and get home. Now.”

Magpei wrenched his arm away from her grip and turned on Zelda, grabbing her and pulling her close; Link’s eyes widened, alarmed. Magpei was whispering feverishly in her ear something too low for Link to hear, and when she nodded he gasped out a laugh and kissed her on the cheek. Link’s jaw dropped.

Magpei’s mom grabbed him again and dragged him away, yelling at him. Link could barely register it. He just stared at Zelda, who was waving halfheartedly to that stupid idiot, and blinked in disbelief. Magpei had just _kissed_ her. Not on the lips, but _still._

Shrike yelled that dinner was ready, and Link forced himself to turn away, walking as though underwater. Then the rage crashed upon him like a wave. What was Magpei thinking, kissing girls left and right? Who did he think he was, doing something like that to Link’s best friend? What had he even whispered to Zelda, anyway? Asking her to see him again, he supposed. Had she even _agreed_ to any of that?

He threw himself on the ground in front of Aepon’s stall and sat there, stewing with anger, his face and arms hot. He didn’t react except to hunch over and fold his arms when Aepon squatted down beside him and rubbed his beak against his shoulder, confused and upset by the hostility Link was displaying. Link sullenly nudged his beak, unable to find the energy to sort his thoughts into a coherent reassurance.

Link jumped violently as Zelda sat down next to him, humming erratically to herself and looking distracted. He stared at her for a few seconds, trying to gauge her expression, but she glanced at him so he had to hurriedly look away. “What’s up?” she asked him, still sounding preoccupied. “You seem upset.”

“’M not,” he muttered, Magpei kissing her flashing through his head. 

“Are you sure? You know you can talk to me, right?” she said, and the softness in her voice just made him that much more incensed. 

“I said it was nothing,” he snapped, and her eyes widened; some of the vitriol made way for a little shame. But before he could seize on this opportunity to apologize or explain she frowned and turned away. Fine, then! Link thought viciously, and not-so-casually dragged Aepon’s confused head between them, petting his bird’s head sullenly.

After a conspicuously silent dinner, for Magpei was not there to be obnoxious and Link and Zelda were in an awkwardly charged environment, Link was distracted by a few problematic clients, mostly paranoia cases who refused to take “Your bird is fine,” as an answer. He never could have realized before working here just how worked up people got over their Loftwings, but the sore spot on the top of his head where an angry client had whacked him with a walking stick when he’d asked the guy to leave was sure to remind him for a while.

He straightened from his hunched position of picking and cleaning up a knocked-over rack and stretched, the buzz of annoyance at the day’s events starting to make his temples pound again as distraction ceased, and he looked around for Zelda. The counter was unmanned, nothing moved among the workspace, and the only one there besides Link was Shrike, who was sitting in his chair with his feet up on a table, whittling a piece of wood in his hands idly with a knife. “Oh, thanks for picking that up,” Shrike called distractedly, holding up his carving to the light and turning it over, inspecting it. Ebirda was crouched next to his chair, her head turned and buried in her wing, dozing.

“Where did everyone go?” Link asked.

“Left! Went and scampered on home,” Shrike said, beginning to whittle again. He glanced over, looking (what if the knife slipped) around. “Goddess, boy, are you trying to get in my good graces or something?” he asked, indicating all around with his knife. 

Link looked. In distraction, he’d gone around making the place spotless. Tools gleamed. “Whoops.”

“Don’t ‘whoops’ me! The more work the better, boy! Here, girl, what do you think of this one, up to par?” Shrike asked aside to Ebirda, holding out the carving of a miniature Loftwing to her. She cracked her eye open, blinked once, and then closed it again, burying her face further into her back. “Well, everyone’s a critic,” Shrike grumbled, returning to his task.

Link was stuck on what he’d said a few moment ago. “Wait a second, _everyone_ left? Where’s Zelda?”

Shrike opened his arms to the whole place and mimed looking all around. “Well, I don’t know, is she here? Looks like she went home to me.”

“She left without me,” Link repeated to himself incredulously. “She left- why would she just _leave_ without me?”

Whether he wanted to or not he found himself without an audience, for Shrike was yawning and chatting at the dozing Ebirda and not paying Link any attention. He took that as his cue to leave, even more perturbed than he was already. He felt like the entire situation was slipping out of his grasp in ways he didn’t know how or want to entertain. Zelda would never leave without him. They walked to Link’s workplace and back every day.

 _But who needs me these days anyway?_ Link thought scornfully. _When there are suuuch better guys around, huh, Zelda?_

He had half a mind to storm up to her room and demand to know what her problem was, but decided he wasn’t even going to afford her the luxury of his company. He went straight to bed but didn’t sleep for a long while, a confused cloud of images and memories and but _I want_ and _I hate this_ swirling around in his head, too flashy and poignant to be shut out. When sleep finally took him, it did so without him ever thinking that he’d forgotten to say good night to Aepon.

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

The next day did not prove to be any more pleasing than the previous, as Zelda acted like nothing had happened when he met her for breakfast in the mess hall. She greeted him as casually as ever, and he felt a little cheated, for he’d expected an explanation or apology or something. Thus slighted, he decided he wouldn’t deign to mention it either, since it was _obviously_ such a small deal to her. He could swear he had a reason to be so offended, but he couldn’t quite grasp it. When he thought of the perfect way to phrase it, _then_ he would lay on the hurt.

Their interaction was thus rendered short and clipped, and they lapsed into silence more often than not until around three, which was when Link was expected to arrive at work. He went down to his room to dress himself and they walked to Shrike’s in, for once, a tense soundlessness. Link pretended he was fine, that he was enjoying the scenery, but inside he fumed. 

As if the universe wished to add to all of this, Link’s current least favorite person was not at his house where he should have been and was instead hanging out once again with Loriki in the infirmary. Magpei looked over and waved when they approached, though it was obviously directed at Zelda instead of Link. Link allowed himself to walk up to Magpei with Zelda and, before either of them could say anything, demanded, “Aren’t you not allowed to be here anymore?”

Magpei looked sullen. “I’m not, but from two to four my parents are both at work, so I can walk Loriki here and stay a little bit.”

“Oh. Great.” Link nodded, really trying to sound convincingly interested, but it did not work at all. He wandered away, growing even more annoyed when Zelda did not walk with him and stayed chatting with Magpei. He stomped around pointlessly for a few moments before making himself look busy, unable to be near them.

Magpei continued to come to the infirmary every day, there when they arrived and staying an hour or two before flying off on his black Loftwing, and Link was glad for him to be gone most of the time. Whenever he was there Zelda didn’t leave his side. But the times Magpei wasn’t there weren’t as enriching as they should have been, either; Link felt like Zelda was avoiding him, and their conversations were growing listless and inanimate. 

And then there was the troubling trend Zelda had adopted of not walking him home anymore. That wasn’t even a spoken agreement to them; it was just a _thing they did,_ and it was universal and constant and they both always did it no matter what. And now she was leaving without him. Sometimes she even left in the middle of his shift and disappeared for most of the day. Sometimes he looked around and she was gone already. Sometimes he was about to leave, but she made no effort to join him, and he was so proud and confused and embittered that he left her.

He began wondering idly if this was the end. Maybe he should have realized there was something seriously messed up and unhealthy about this train of thought, but in the aftermath of the attack and his refusal to seek catharsis his thoughts and feelings were becoming stunted and twisted even in the moment he conjured them. Was this the end of him and Zelda? Had she seriously found someone else and moved on? What if they never hung out again? What if they just drifted out of friendship? He’d never feared something like this before, but then, Zelda had never blown him off like this. 

One day he was doing his new routine of systematic sulking and pouting while ignoring everyone when Shrike called him over. Shrike had been treating him a bit differently since the pirate raid, inching a bit toward human decency. He didn’t creep up on Link to patronize him anymore, though he kept up the same when it came to the likes of Pelica. He spoke a little softer, walked a little less obnoxiously, and just generally became a little more . . . agreeable.

Link went over to him. Shrike sat knees-bent before Aepon’s stall, holding the Loftwing’s head up as he carefully prodded his chest. Link waited for him to be finished. Shrike put up his fingers and squinted at the ceiling, mumbling under his breath as he did some math, before nodding and standing up. “Well! Your bird’s pretty much golden. I mean, he can’t fly yet, sure, ‘cause of his wings and all, and his chest isn’t perfect yet. But it’s good enough that he doesn’t have to be cooped up here any longer.”

“So Aepon is . . . discharged?” Link asked hopefully.

“Well, Goddess, don’t seem to happy about it. Yup! Now, we have to set up appointments for checkups and all that fun stuff, but for now, he’s free as a bird. As himself. He _is_ a bird.” He looked confused at his own analogy, then shook it off. “What I’m trying to say is that he doesn’t have to stay here anymore.”

Shrike started a monologue about physical exercise and bone structure, but Link was only half paying attention. With Aepon loose, it was only a matter of time before Link was, too. That wasn’t exactly reassuring, considering how Nandu’s and Loriki’s Loftwings hadn’t been in the infirmary for weeks but their humans still worked off their debt to this day, but it was progress. Loriki was actually being weaned off of work; he’d been taking several days off as his debt came to an end, and Shrike often let him leave early.

“. . . aaand you’re not listening to a word I’m saying, are you?” Shrike muttered. “Fine, fine. Go take a walk with him or something, clear up your little dejected head, and come back when you can hold a mature conversation for more than six seconds.”

Link perked up. “Are you serious?”

“Eh, why not? Not like we’re very busy, anyhow. Just take him out for an hour or two. He can do stairs and jumps, but no flying! Not even an attempt. You’ll set him back _weeks_ if he so much as lifts a wingtip!”

“All right, all right,” Link muttered, trying to inch around him so he could get to Aepon’s stall. Shrike wasn’t very tall or imposing, but Link wasn’t in the mood to nudge him and trigger a childish arm-flailing Remlit fight, which Shrike was fond of. 

“Oh! Before I forget,” Shrike said, and withdrew from out of literally nowhere a giant pair of pliers, with which he bent down and, with no hesitation, his arm swooping in one deft motion, plucked a large feather from Aepon’s back. The Crimson Loftwing jerked and rasped shrilly in displeasure. 

“Sorry there,” Shrike chuckled, patting the Loftwing’s head complacently and inspecting the two-foot-long feather – with a shaft as thick as Link’s finger – he’d just wrested effortlessly from Aepon’s back. “It’s not just you. Whenever a bird stays and goes, they get added to my collection!”

He gestured with a sweeping arm to the overhanging roof. Link had noticed the string of feathers there before, but hadn’t guessed their origin. Multicolored feathers shaped like the one he’d plucked from Aepon were hung from their shafts all around the edge of the roof, a gap of a few inches separating them all. “Those are all from Loftwings you’ve helped?”

“Yup! Every single one. And now I get to add this unique shade of lovely carmine to the menagerie! First one ever. Oh joyous day!”

“Right,” Link muttered. “Can you, uh, _stop_ messing with my bird’s feathers anytime soon?”

“No.”

Link made a face and glanced over his shoulder, almost about to call out to Zelda to ask her if she wanted to come, but then remembered his current situation. He curled his lip in irritation before turning back to Shrike, who had a weird expression on his face. “What?” Link demanded harshly.

Shrike shrugged giddily, skipping obnoxiously away, Aepon’s feather in hand. Link made a face at the back of his head and knelt down the Aepon, who looked at him curiously. “Guess what, buddy?” Link asked, reaching forward to bat his head back and forth. “You’re free! No more scratchy black uniforms! No more dumb old Shrike!”

Aepon, who had been getting very excited at how high-pitched Link’s voice was (for surely this meant good things) deflated a little when this last thought of no more Shrike got through to him. Despite what Link felt, Aepon really liked his niceman. 

He barely opened his beak to rasp in displeasure when Link felt a sharp knock on the back of his neck, and he yelped, falling forward onto Aepon’s neck. He flopped onto his side, an arm around Aepon’s shoulders, rubbing his neck as he stared up at his assailant. Ebirda was crouching right behind him, looking at him quite severely. Link’s yell of protest died immediately in his throat; there was something about Ebirda that was a little bit . . . off.

If Link – and the entirety of Skyloft, really – was honest with himself, everyone knew Ebirda was kind of stupid. Her eyes were perpetually half-lidded, her feathers perpetually fluffed, and her movements slow and ungraceful. She didn’t turn her head with the deliberate quickness and grace of other Loftwings; she just sort of swung her head around slowly and blinked in that listless way of hers. She never got the hint that people didn’t want to scratch her head, and instead just nagged and nagged until the victim of her mindless affections gave in. She was useless.

So the slicked-down feathers she donned and the piercing glare she was giving Link right now were quite a bit off.

As quickly as it had happened Ebirda’s eyelid drifted down lazily, the milky nictitating membrane sliding over the now-glassy surface of the edge of her eye, and the corners of her beak disappeared behind her white cheek puffs. She straightened up and wandered off, her tail swishing.

“She just pecked me,” Link said in disbelief, and then turned and swatted Aepon on the neck. “And you didn’t do a thing to help!”

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

Ebirda followed them on their walk, strolling idly a couple of yards behind them, and Link kept shooting her venomous glares and covering the back of his neck. Aepon didn’t look too concerned.

Aepon was too distracted being giddy and energetic at his newfound freedom. It had taken him a while to comprehend Link’s effort to convey that he didn’t have to stay cooped up in that stall all day and night anymore, and the result was hilarious to watch. He bounded all over as Link kept an eye on him, trotting in circles around trees and bushes, and hopping with his wings spread in a heart shape like he did when he felt clever. Every so often he looked over at Link and rasped happily, growing even more ebullient when Link waved back at him and teased him in that babying voice everyone hated to hear from others but used with their own birds anyway. 

“You excited, boy?” Link called to him as Aepon bounced over a low stone wall before turning in a quick circle and dashing back over to him to rub his head in Link’s chest. “You’re a little punk, you know that?” Link cooed to him, shoving his head away playfully. “You’re a troublemaker. You’re bad.” Aepon had no idea what Link was saying but he loved it anyway. He shoved his beak toward Link’s scalp in an effort to effervescently preen his hair, but Link ducked away. “Yeah, okay, no.”

Aepon spun in a circle again, hopping with both feet off the ground. “You’re a pillar of the decay of society, Aepon,” Link sighed. “I could write essays and give lectures about how dumb you are.” He waited for the laughter, for the recent but constant joking admonishment that he if he wasn’t careful he’d become such a sarcastic adult, but clucked his tongue moodily when he remembered he was alone. “Right. Forgot Zelda has a new and fantastic boyfriend,” he muttered. He glanced over his shoulder. “Gold or not, Ebirda, you’re a crappy substitute.”

Ebirda responded by yawning hugely, a tiny squeak issuing from her gaping throat. 

Link rolled his eyes and felt like sitting down. Looking around, he caught sight of and went to sit on a large rock, one he remembered as the sort he’d loved to climb on with Zelda as a kid. They used to vie for the glory of sitting at the highest surface of the boulder. They’d fight for it. Link distinctly remembered once when he shoved her off so hard that she toppled right off and landed in a flowerbed, popping back up again before he could panic, flowers in her hair and grass stains on her elbows and hands, laughing with her eyes squeezed shut.

Ebirda went to stand next to him, nudging his shoulder for a headscratch. Link obliged glumly, trying to hold onto that nice memory. With how muddled and confused his thoughts were lately, it was a bit of a feat, so he let it go reluctantly. “You know, Ebirda,” he grumbled, “just because you saved my life doesn’t mean you get to go and peck me on the head.”

Aepon trotted up to him, rasping indignantly that Link dared to give headscratches to another bird and not his own. Link snorted and held out his free hand in invitation; Aepon took one look and turned snootily, staring deliberately away. “Wooow,” Link drawled. “What a drama king.”

Ebirda took her head out of Link’s hands. He turned his head lazily to look at her. She was watching Aepon with her head canted, nictitating idly. Then her third eyelid disappeared, and her eye was revealed fully. Her golden iris glanced at Link, then she tilted her head back to the dramatic and haughty Aepon, then back at Link. Then her marble-round iris glided slightly forward, then slightly skyward, then the same backwards, and then returned to Link.

_She rolled her eyes._

Aepon apparently got over his mood and nudged Link’s hand, now actually wanting that offered headscratch. Link couldn’t even think to move his hand. He stared, slack-jawed, as Ebirda turned and wandered away as if nothing had happened, toddling down the path.

“Aepon,” Link managed once she was out of sight. “I think I’m having an out-of-body experience.” He turned to his bird. “Please tell me you saw that too. Didn’t you?”

Aepon, oblivious, rasped indignantly when it became obvious we wasn’t getting any headscratches anytime soon. He turned away in another huff, and Link didn’t even notice.

Did Loftwings even have the mobility range to roll their eyes? He hadn’t thought so. She’d done it so shallowly, but it was distinct enough that it seemed deliberate. And what would ever prompt Ebirda to do such a thing? Was a bug circling her face or something? 

She’d looked at Link, then back at Aepon, then back at Link, right after Link had made a comment about how dramatic Aepon was. As if they were sharing a private joke. But there was no way that could be possible.

“Saw what, huh?” a voice crowed forth, and Link recognized it immediately, cringing, the thoughts of Ebirda evaporating. _Oh, just when I was in a good mood,_ he thought savagely, glaring over his shoulder. Groose was leaning against the balcony above his head, that smug smirk on his broad face, looking down at Link lazily. Stritch and Cawlin flanked him, trying and failing to mimic his intimidating mien (or at least Cawlin was; Stritch was soon distracted by a passing blessed butterfly). 

Aepon whipped his head around and hissed savagely, glaring at the red-haired idiot. Link’s hand reached up and gripped his collar; it wouldn’t do if Aepon were to strain himself so soon after achieving freedom. “Groose. What do you want?”

Groose shrugged his shoulders and raised his hands innocently. “What? I can’t say hi to a good friend?”

Link mimed looking all around. “Can I say hi to him too?”

Groose’s lip curled, and Link beat down a swell of pride with the memories of Groose’s reaction to such witticisms. One of the reasons Zelda jokingly told him to stop being so snarky was that Groose didn’t take kindly to being made a fool of, and tended to take out his frustration with his fists. Or tried to, anyway. Aepon would never allow Link to be brought to harm while breath still filled his lungs.

“You talk real smart for someone I could crush with my pinkie finger,” Groose said confidently, flexing, as if the tight shirt he was wearing didn’t already highlight every muscle standing out on his ridiculous body.

“If I didn’t talk ‘smart’ then we’d have entirely too much dumb in this conversation,” Link muttered, half tempted to let go of Aepon’s collar and see what kind of hilarious results it could produce. He refrained only on the grounds that Aepon might injure himself.

Groose went on, perhaps having not heard Link (Link felt a little put down that his rebuke had not been properly appreciated). He began walking down the stairs, watching Link, his two lackeys flanking him the whole time. “Look at you, flopping all over like you own the place. Baggy eyes and all. I bet I could throw you across Skyloft if I tried. You’re skinny enough.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

Groose narrowed his eyes. “That wasn’t supposed to be a compliment! But I can see why you would get confused, considering you’re dumber than Ebirda. You and Ospren should switch Loftwings.”

“Gold doesn’t really suit me,” Link said a little distractedly, thinking about Ebirda’s recent behavior.

“I don’t get why Zelda hangs out with you all the time,” Groose muttered, reaching the bottom of the stairs and swaggering over, arms swinging obnoxiously, head lolling from side to side on his beefy neck with each step. Aepon’s hissing turned into a raspy warble of warning. “I mean, you’re asleep half the day, and when you wake up you’ve got to be the dullest guy ever. Look at you, you look like you’re about to fall over right now!”

“Only ‘cause of how mind-numbingly boring this conversation is,” Link grumbled, but only because Aepon was there. Normally he would not be so bold, and so he relished the moments when Aepon could be present. He patted the boulder he sat upon invitingly. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re jealous of my rock.” 

Groose ignored him, a enormous hand on his tiny hip, and began to circle Link, making sure to avoid the roiling Aepon. “Yeah, Zelda deserves a lot better. She should be spending some quality time with someone who can stay awake long enough to have a conversation, huh? A real quality talker! Someone she can connect with. . . .” Groose trailed off, sighing euphorically, his yellow eyes taking on that dreamy cast they did when he fantasized his fantasies. He snapped out of it after a second and looked disdainfully at Link again. “Not someone like you.”

“Groose, it’s a _rock._ You can just _have_ it if you want.”

“So where is Zelda, anyway?” Groose wondered aloud, rubbing his chin exaggeratedly. “I don’t see her around! What, did she get bored of you?”

Link refrained from commenting on this one, his bitterness toward Zelda returning. 

“Aww, did she ditch you? Did she ditch you for that _kid?”_ Groose went on, his own voice growing growly and irritated. “That dumb kid she hangs out with all the time now?”

Link looked up, surprised at Groose’s knowledge of Magpei. Then Groose’s words registered to Link. So _that_ was where Zelda went during the day when she ditched Link! She was with Magpei, who was supposed to be home! What, did she help him sneak out? Could there possibly be a way for Link to rat on Magpei?

Groose was too caught up grumbling about Magpei to notice Link being caught up in his own musings. “Dumb little kid. What is he, like, twelve? Not good enough for my Zelda, that’s for sure.”

 _That_ snapped Link out of it. _“Your_ Zelda?” he demanded. “Your Ze- you’ve got to be kidding! She doesn’t even give you the time of day!”

Groose snapped out of it too, with a much more vicious jerk of (if a sword split his arm what color would it be) his head and a glare. “She does so! She just doesn’t get a chance with you hogging her all the time!”

“I don’t _hog_ her! She’s _my_ friend, not yours! She hangs out with me because she wants to!”

“She doesn’t seem to want to lately!”

Link hopped off his rock, too incensed to trust himself to stay there and perhaps let Aepon do something stupid. “Come on,” he growled, jerking a little fiercely on Aepon’s collar to get him to follow.

“Aww, where you going?” Groose crowed after them. “Did I hurt your little _feelings?_ Come back here!”

“Yeah, right,” Link muttered, breaking into a jog toward the infirmary where he knew Groose wouldn’t follow (Shrike, if he disliked Magpei, would probably try to kill Groose). He blocked out a parting shout from his least favorite person with a vigorous shake of his head, gritting his teeth. 

His heart pounded in his ears, and stress made his limbs feel weak. Gone was the carefree atmosphere from before, with a happy friend and gentle teasing; now he kept glancing around for a colorful uniform, running a little faster when he couldn’t see one. A shadow plunged darkness over him and he flinched violently, ducking to avoid he knew not what; a gasping glance over his shoulder told him it was a Loftwing and rider gliding lazily over the rooftops, and he felt restless relief. 

The sun was bright and high in the sky, but that somehow didn’t matter. That just made it worse, because he was visualizing terrible things just _happening,_ right there in plain sight, right there where he could see it. No secrecy, no slinking, no shadows hiding hulking figures.

He only slowed when the infirmary was in sight, breathing hard through his nose, because it somehow mattered that he looked unafraid, even though walking among those shelves of instruments and hanging feathers was like a breath of fresh air. Aepon was unsettled by his disquiet, but pinned the blame on Groose and his needling, or Zelda’s absence. He was mistaken.

_I really need to think about this soon._

“That was quick,” Shrike commented from (his chest all red) his chair when Link slunk back into the infirmary. Aepon followed him inside and curled up in his stall out of habit. “Yet just in time! Hark, a customer approaches.”

Link ignored his peppiness and trudged up to the woman in question, not caring enough to look appreciative of her patronage. “What do you need?” he said a bit bluntly.

“Just a checkup!” the woman replied, with a cheeriness that was most undue. “My big girl here’s been moaning and groaning lately about something or other. I think it’s her ankles, but I’m not too sure.”

“Prooobably ingrown nails,” Shrike sighed from his seat in the back. “If she’s unlucky, it’s gout. Set ‘er up, Link! I don’t got all day!”

Link muttered something even he himself couldn’t make out before gesturing vaguely for the woman to follow, which she did with utmost compliance. Link started cleaning the checkup area. He swept the floor hurriedly, his thoughts black as the pavilion when it was dark and his chest fiery red as blood. He burned with a frustrated anger directed at everyone and no one. He was mad at the customer for daring to be so cheery, at Shrike because he couldn’t seem to do this simple preparation task, at himself because he was scared of nothing.

“Need any help with that?” the woman asked good-naturedly. 

“I’ve got it,” Link growled under his breath.

“Are you sure? I feel bad just standing h-“

“I’ve _got_ it,” Link snapped, much more loud and ferocious this time. The woman shrank back, looking (what did eyeless sockets look like) confused at the vitriol aimed her way.

A hand clamped down on the handle of Link’s broom, and he (would those knuckles be warm if bloodied) whipped his head around, outraged, ready to rip it out of the other’s grasp. Shrike looked down at him sternly. “You’re done,” he said shortly. He jerked his chin in the direction of a corner. “Go.”

Link didn’t need to be told twice. He stomped over to a chair and flung himself down upon it, slumping, his jaw clenched. He watched sullenly as Shrike gave the bird a once-over and diagnosed that its problem was indeed ingrown nails, which he remedied with a practiced hand, before sending the woman on her way with a wave. Link bit the side of his tongue hard enough to make it lance pain down his throat as Shrike then turned on his heel and marched over to him. “Stewed in your own misery long enough? I thought I said to come back when you can have a mature conversation.”

“Go away,” was all Link trusted himself to say. Aepon, poking his head out from his stall, rasped in concern.

“You’re in _my_ house, Link. What do you want me to do, leave you the keys? Here, I’ll let you do something relatively harmless, yeah? Go find something to clean. Try not to stab anyone.”

Link heaved himself out of his chair, avoiding eye contact with Shrike until the older man walked (would he hobble if his hamstring was severed) away. He trudged over to a bench piled with tools a little less sparkling clean than the others and decided he might as well make himself look busy. 

He was stowing them all in a metal tub when Loriki slunk into view, this clearly being a day when he wasn’t let home early. Link didn’t pay him any outward mind, though internally he railed at the other boy just for being related to Magpei.

Loriki, as though sensing Link’s anger, angled himself a little (did the arm stop moving if the neck was slit) away and closer to the Loftwing stalls as he passed. With a friendly warble, the brown Loftwing poked his head out of his stall and stretched forth his beak to nibble on the boy’s passing sleeve. Before he could grasp it Loriki turned white as bone and, gulping down a rattling gasp, flung himself sideways and out of reach, crashing right into Link.

The tub went flying out of his hands, the tools clattering around as one before spilling around all over the floor. Link whirled on Loriki. “Way to go,” he snarled. “What the hell was that for?”

Loriki looked like he wanted to evaporate, or like Link was going to hit him. “L-Link. I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean- let me help, let me do that-“

He knelt down and started gathering the instruments in his arms, still stumbling over apologies, and he was so pathetic that Link beat down the angry speech he’d been preparing and just opted to stay silent, letting Loriki pick up his stuff and timidly hand the tub back to him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered earnestly again. “I really didn’t mean to do that, I swear-“

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Link interrupted, sick of Loriki’s whiny rambling. “Just watch out next time, goddess.” He turned away before Loriki could start up his woeful monologue again. He was sick to death of those two morons.

Link filled up a bucket with water and soap, aware of Loriki hovering around awkwardly. _Oh, go away already,_ he thought venomously, just wanting to be alone. He didn’t like being (blade to the gut) watched unnecessarily and he _especially_ didn’t like the fact that Loriki was here, doing nothing, when his shifts were obviously winding down, and Link couldn’t fathom why he was hanging around in this particular spot right _now._

Something occurred to him, and he wondered aloud whether Loriki was doing anything. Loriki blinked at him in surprise before confirming that he wasn’t busy, and Link put on his most innocent face and said, “Want to help me with this? I’ll dry, you’ll wash?”

Loriki, eager to make up for his blunder, agreed readily, and followed Link to a sunlit grassy area a little away from the infirmary, toward the cliff. Link couldn’t help but recognize that this place had been splattered with bloodstains when last he walked upon it. 

Loriki looked like he was going to set about his task in silence, but Link wasn’t having any of that. “Sooo, Loriki,” he began, waiting for the other boy to be done scrubbing the metal parts of a beak speculum. “How are you? Good?”

Loriki glanced up at him, surprised, before looking down shyly. “G-Good.”

Link stared at Loriki’s soapy hands and wondered how soap and blood mixed. “That’s good. Hey, how’s Magpei? How’s, like, his foot?”

“He’s better,” replied Loriki a little awkwardly.

“Good, good.” Link nodded, like this was all really interesting to him. He accepted the beak speculum Loriki shyly offered and started drying it absentmindedly. “So, uh, what does he do all day?” That probably sounded weird, so Link backtracked. “I mean, like, when he’s not here, where does he go? He said he gets bored without you or whatever. I was just wondering.”

“Um,” Loriki said contemplatively, frowning at the forceps he held. “He . . . stays at home, I guess? Or, I guess, walks around or something. I don’t know. I’m usually there too, so. . . .”

“But who does he hang out with? Like, who are his friends? Besides you, I mean.”

“Everyone, pretty much. Everyone in our grade. We’re not a big class, though, so . . .”

 _Everyone’s an idiot, then._ “So does he have, like, a posse? Wait, your class is huge. He has that many friends? Who has that many friends?”

Loriki looked confused. “There are only fifteen of us . . .”

“You-“ Link stared at him, confused, quite sure that the grade below him had upwards of thirty kids. “Wait, how old are you?”

“We’re turning fourteen next month.”

 _Wow, Zelda likes younger guys,_ popped into his head before he forcibly banished it. “Oh. I thought you guys were a grade below me, not two- Never mind, just . . .” He let the sentence die, feeling like he was making Loriki uncomfortable, and he didn’t really want that; he needed the kid around to drill him on his brother’s antics. It was a dumb conversation, anyway. For a while they sat in silence, doing their work. 

Aepon kept placing his heavy head on Link’s knee, which Link kept shoving off, distracted. Aepon did it gradually, inching his beak closer and closer, as though trying to be stealthy, somehow failing to realize that there was nothing stealthy about a bright red bird head slowly gliding its way under Link’s arms. “Get out of here, moron,” Link sighed, elbowing him away once again.

Loriki giggled at Aepon, then froze when Link looked up at him, unamused. “Sorry,” he breathed.

“Whatever, relax, I’m not going to eat you. So . . . does Ma- . . . hey, shouldn’t you roll your sleeves up or something?” he asked, indicating Loriki’s arms; they were still down at his wrists, and they were heavy and dark from the soapy water he was working with. 

Loriki looked down slowly at his sleeves, then up at Link. “Oh,” he said dumbly, and nudged them up his arms. “Sorry.”

“Anyway, uh, does Magpei hang out with Zelda at all?” Link asked bluntly, and then realized this was a little too blunt, and probably made him look like a desperate loser. 

Loriki didn’t seem to notice. “They hang out a lot.”

“Oh, so he d- he _does?”_ Link repeated dumbly, his worst fears confirmed. “Like, every day?”

“Mm-hmm. She’s really nice. I really like Zelda,” Loriki said, smiling. 

“Yeah, she’s really nice,” Link agreed sullenly, stewing on this information. So Groose had been talking about Magpei. Fantastic. Link was being replaced by a thirteen-year-old. 

Loriki sat back, giving the last tool to Link to dry. He started wiping soapsuds off his arms absentmindedly. “She really likes Magpei. They talk a lot, and I’m glad because honestly Magpei doesn’t talk much. About important stuff, I mean. Zelda’s really nice to him. She actually agreed to walk me-“

But Link interrupted, for he’d caught sight of something that slowly dawned on him as noteworthy, and he couldn’t stop staring. “Whoa, what happened to your _arms?”_

Loriki froze, eyes wide, and recoiled as though struck, but he couldn’t erase what Link saw. Crisscrossing his skin were a myriad of white scars, stacked haphazardly atop each other all over his arms, making the surface bumpy and pink and weak-looking. Some were just nicks, but there were some long, ropy marks that ran along the whole length of his forearm. Most of them were clustered on the soft undersides of his arms.

Loriki tugged down his sleeves immediately before holding his arms to his chest, as if trying to hide them. “I-I’m sorry,” he squeaked, standing unsteadily. “I’m just- I’m just going to-“ He didn’t finish his sentence, just ducked his head and rushed back to the infirmary. 

Link sat there like a lump, mouth agape, trying to process what he’d just seen. Whatever that was, it was some serious scarring, and Loriki hadn’t looked too eager to let Link see. Every one of those white lines had once been red and weeping.

He almost thought it was self-harm, and was about to run after Loriki and apologize profusely for being an idiot and drawing attention to it like that, but he never thought cutting looked so . . . sloppy. And some of them had looked way too thick to be dealt from a knife. Link didn’t think it was that at all. 

Most of them had been on the undersides of his arms. It was almost like . . .

Experimentally, Link raised his arms in front of his face so that his forearms were vertical to the ground. The undersides of his arms were automatically facing away from him, facing anyone who would have stood in front of him. Like an adversary. Like someone who had to be fended off.

There was a really bad idea forming in his head, and before he could question it and attempt to rationalize it like a normal human being, it took root and blocked everything else out. _Magpei isn’t just annoying – he’s freaking abusive!_

And once it took root it held fast, refusing to let go. In this new light everything Link had seen Magpei do became tainted; every smile of his became perfidious, every look a mockery, every whispered word overly surreptitious. His seemingly happy interactions with his brother turned sour as Link reasoned that he was lying, that Magpei was the reason Loriki was so terrified of everything. He’d heard that abused people became scared of everything. He read it in a book once, so it had to be true.

Aepon nudged Link, confused (would his beak crumple or dent and would it bleed) at his white horror. Link didn’t even bother trying to translate anything for him; no doubt the intricacies of what he was thinking would be too much for his bird to handle. 

Aepon grew anxious when Link refused to tell him what was going on, and then even more so when Link stood stiffly, hauling up the tub and stumbling back to the infirmary. But Link didn’t focus on him. He needed to find _Zelda._ He needed to tell her about this.

Unfortunately, predictably, she was nowhere to be seen. Link let out a frustrated groan and flopped into a chair. The day was slow, and no patients were sighted on the horizon. Pelica was snoring behind the counter, her freckled face buried in her similarly spotted arms, as her Lofting dozed in her stall. Nandu wasn’t here (limp in the road) today; like Loriki, he was also being phased out. Shrike was in his corner again, holding a one-sided conversation with the sleepy Ebirda curled (how far did you have to cut to make a wing bleed) up by his side as he painted the tiny black claws of the Loftwing figurine he’d been whittling earlier. And Loriki was nowhere to be seen.

When Link asked, Shrike took an extra second to respond, and Link was sure it meant something. But Shrike then shrugged and said, “He went home,” with enough finality to make Link doubt himself, and went back to panting the nails on the still-mostly-wooden bird.

When Link went back to his chair, Pelica was blinking groggily at him from the counter. “Hey, ‘re youuu . . .” She yawned hugely before slurring, “Aren’ you havin’ a fight with your girlfriendorsomethin’?”

“Who even knows,” Link muttered, not looking at her. Pelica nodded as though this explained everything and plunked her face back into (what color would her hair turn if a blade rent her skull) her arms, and Link realized belatedly that she’d called Zelda his girlfriend. Judging by the renewed chorus of snoring to his right, it was too late to correct her.

Only two clients stopped by for the rest of the day, and after that no one came. Shrike stood, yawning, and Link looked over to see him slipping on a coat. “Where’re you going?” Link asked.

“Restaurant,” Shrike said absentmindedly. “I’m taking my dad out to dinner. I haven’t seen him in a week.”

“Wow, a week,” Link muttered dramatically, but it was quiet enough that Shrike couldn’t hear. It was odd, the thought of Shrike having a life outside of the infirmary. He’d been entertaining the thought that Shrike just sprouted in the clinic one day and took it over.

Shrike trotted by and out, hands in his pockets. “Go home, girl,” he called toward Pelica at the counter. “Link, close the place up in a little bit, will you?”

Pelica vaulted over the counter and galloped out of there, sleepiness forgotten, whooping loudly. Link would have snorted at her antics had he been of better mood.

He glanced around at the darkening sky a little anxiously, trying to count the flying shapes, trying to see if there was structure in them. He looked away when he realized how lowly and pathetic this was. Somehow, even though he knew it didn’t make any sense, he felt like the attack had done all of this to him. The pirates had come, they’d pillaged, they’d raided the city and Link and left them both feeling desolated. Link would’ve given anything to go back to that one night Zelda had slept over. They had both been just grateful and alive and together. He wanted to go back to a time when he didn’t look at a person and wonder just how their flesh cleaved. 

He hadn’t risen from his chair, feeling either too tired or too unmotivated to do so. It was then that he caught sight of Zelda strolling into the infirmary, humming distractedly. Link stared at her for a long moment, unsure of what to even say to her. _Hey, Zel, you’ve been ignoring me for weeks. Let’s have a chat._ She saved him the trouble by walking right up to him and smiling faintly. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Busy today?”

“Nah. Not really.”

Zelda nodded, balancing her weight on one hip, her gaze flitting (Nandu sent a woman sprawling by hitting her hip; did she bleed or bruise; _Link recoiled –_ Not Zelda, _he thought)_ over the wall above Link’s head. _Oh goddess, this is so awkward,_ he thought, somber. _It didn’t used to be like this._ “So . . . what were you up to today?”

Zelda shrugged, looking at him again. “Stuff. Just walked around town.”

“With Magpei,” Link muttered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Just wondering if Magpei was with you.”

“He was.”

Link nodded, widening his eyes for a second as he hummed in confirmation. Shadows fluctuated on the curves of her face, and her normally bright hair was dark. “Of course.”

Zelda sucked on her lower lip, nodding as well. “Yup.”

“So where is he now?” Link blurted out nosily. 

She glanced at him suspiciously. “Home. Why?”

He shrugged, trying to look dismissive. “Just wondering.”

“You’ve never wondered that before.”

“I thought it was weird that you weren’t with him.”

Zelda didn’t say anything to that, and Link waited for her reply with increasing frustration. He wanted to spark that powder keg. He wanted to shake the lesser of his two demons off his back.

“So . . .” he said vaguely, hoping his ensuing silence would prompt a response out of her.

But all she replied with was, “So.”

“Why are you here now, then?” he asked slowly, staring at an irregularity in the grain of the shiny surface of the counter.

Zelda took a step to the left and leaned against a roof-supporting beam, her arms folded to her chest. She shrugged, watching Link. “He went home.”

Link scoffed. “After sneaking out, obviously.”

“What does that mean?”

Oh, good, he was starting to get her attention. “Nothing,” he sighed, hoping it sounded pointedly loaded. 

It must have, for she said slowly, “Link.”

He looked over at her, wide-eyed and innocent. “I’m just saying. He can’t get caught when he, like, blatantly disobeys his mom, right?”

“No, he can’t,” Zelda said firmly.

“I mean, it’s not like he can respect her wishes or anything. She’s just worried about his health. He can go running around with you, probably screwing up his ankle, as long as she doesn’t know.” Link thought about fingers digging into Magpei’s arm and shoved it down just as fast. Somehow he didn’t think concern for Magpei’s health figured into there much, but he wasn’t about to admit he suspected that. Not when he was so sure Magpei did the same exact thing to a different victim.

Zelda was now staring at him hard. “Right. Of course.”

“I’m just, like,” he mused, pausing to shrug and smirk (Zelda hated snide smirks), “surprised at you.”

“At me?”

“Yup. I mean, you’re . . . _you,”_ Link sighed, gesturing at her. “Kind of like a goody-two-shoes. Helping this guy sneak out. Laughing when he gives Shrike a hard time.” He shrugged again. “It just surprises me.”

He drummed his fingertips against his leg, feeling awfully smug at his apparent upper hand in this one-sided battle. If he was lucky she’d be absolutely stewing right now. Skewered on the lance of his superiority. Squirming in the spotlight of her wrongdoings.

When he risked a glance over she was doing none of these things. She leaned against that beam with her head tilted and eyebrows raised, staring at him. He shrugged at her, staring right back.

“Are you okay, Link?” she asked slowly. “Or do you want to tell me something?”

“Tell you something?” he repeated. “What? No, of course not. I don’t have anything to say. Nothing at all.”

Zelda just kept on giving him that look, and it gave Link the very first inklings of apprehension. “What?” he demanded harshly. 

She shook her head. “Nothing. I guess I was just waiting for this conversation to happen.”

Oh. So she was aware of what she was doing. Aware that she’d stood Link up, shut him out, and replaced him. Link had been operating under the assumption that she was just either unaware or ignoring him or simply just too _vapid_ to know she was hurting him.

He’d been playing it cool, playing it vague and subtle and safe, but now he was angry. Now he was _pissed._ “You know what I’m waiting for?” he demanded loudly, sitting up in his chair and glowering at his best friend. “I’m waiting for the reason why you’re ignoring me and blowing me off for no reason. Did you just- I don’t know, not care? That you’ve been leaving me alone for _weeks_ and just not talking to me? What did I ever do to you?”

Zelda’s expression didn’t waver a single bit. “Link,” she said quietly.

“No no, I’m waiting for more,” Link interrupted, plowing right ahead. “I want to know why Magpei’s so special that you help him sneak out and laugh when he makes fun of people. Goddess, Zelda, I thought you were _nice._ Like a- like an angel or something.” He shrugged slowly again, but his set jaw and hard glare erased all casualness the previous shrugs had. “You know?”

“Link.”

“Oh, and one more thing,” Link cut in, his voice saccharine, sickeningly innocent and polite. “Can you tell me why Loriki has scars _all_ over his arms?”

With no one else to bear witness to this, silence reigned as a smirk crawled its way across Link’s face. He’d delivered the blow he knew she could not dispute, the one that would send her running for cover, scrambling for purchase. If she didn’t know what he was talking about, he’d be more than delighted to explain and watch the disillusionment unfold.

But she just stared. And he stared back, getting more confused by the second. “What?” he demanded for the second time that night.

Zelda sucked on her bottom lip for a second, nodding slightly, before clicking her tongue. “Are you done?”

“Wh-“ The apprehension was growing steadily. “Done with what?”

“With your little rant, Link,” replied Zelda matter-of-factly. “Finally got that off your chest? Took you long enough. Do you feel better now?”

Link had a feeling something had gone right over his head. “What? Did you not just hear me before?”

“Oh, I _heard you,”_ Zelda said, and her voice was forceful, her stoic countenance twisting into one of open hostility. Link’s eyes widened at the change. _I messed up._

“First of all, Link, I’m not really sure what you mean by abandoning you. What, making new friends? Talking to them? I hadn’t known Magpei for two seconds and you were sulking like a jealous ex. Oh, yeah, Link. I saw you, even on the first day. I’m not an idiot.”

“I never said you were-“

“Secondly, what the _hell_ makes you think I would want to hang out with you when you’re acting like that?” she demanded next, and Link shrank back a little, his mouth open but no words coming out. “You’re pouting and moaning and making me feel _guilty_ for daring to laugh at someone else’s joke? Are you kidding me?”

Link hunched down in his seat, opening and closing his mouth like a breathless fish and trying to form words.

“You can’t even begin to blame me,” Zelda went on, “for wanting to avoid you if being around you makes me feel _bad_ for having friends.”

 _“Friends,”_ Link blurted out snidely, finding his voice. “He kissed you.”

Her eyes widened, then she _laughed._ “Wow. I should have known you’d have seen that. Yeah, he did. You want to know why? Because he asked me to walk Loriki home and I agreed, and he was _thankful._ I’ve been walking Loriki home every day, but I guess you didn’t notice. I guess you were just so wrapped up in blaming Magpei for everything that you figured it couldn’t be anyone but him taking up my time, right?”

And there went the main body of Link’s vices, devoured and digested and turned into something that made much more sense than what he’d been thinking.

Zelda’s hands were manic, wringing, her fingers pinching each other, her knuckles clashing. She turned to Link, mouth open, as though struck by an afterthought. “And one more thing, Link,” she said with the most venom thus far. “Don’t you _dare_ imply Magpei hurts Loriki. Those marks on his arms did _not_ come from him.”

“You’ve seen them?” Link asked dumbly.

“No, but I know about them,” Zelda snarled, “and I have the good tact not to see them, _confront_ poor Loriki about them – are you serious? – and then somehow jump to the conclusion that . . . what? Magpei’s cutting him? Have you even seen- they _adore_ each other, and that’s what comes to mind first?”

Link swallowed jerkily, unable to answer her. There were few things he would not sacrifice to turn back time and never initiate this conversation. “Then what _are_ they?” he demanded before he could stop himself.

Zelda laughed again. “You really think that’s your _business?_ All you need to know is that Magpei has got nothing to do with them, and you should feel ashamed for assuming that.”

Link could do nothing but stare in horror as everything he’d said, everything he’d done, all of his arguments, the foundations upon which he’d built his hostilities, crumbled before his very eyes after weeks of construction. Now he was forced to see just how weak the supports had been in the first place, and it burned beyond belief.

Then Zelda moved, and Link uttered a wordless protestation. She whirled on him immediately. “Don’t even start. I’m leaving. Come talk to me when you’re ready to act like my friend again.”

“Zelda,” he said helplessly, watching her stride away. “Zelda!”

She didn’t look back. Link couldn’t even get out of his chair, couldn’t do anything but watch her leave. And then he was alone.

Aepon crept up behind him, rasping quietly, cautiously. The Crimson Loftwing understood little of what had just transpired, and he was torn between confusion and ill feelings toward Zelda for yelling at his human. 

Link paid him no mind; he’d been squeezed dry, desiccated, wrung of all defense like water from a sponge, and his body felt drained just as his mind was simultaneously clogged. He ran through their fight fuzzily, like running his fingers through knotted threads in an attempt to straighten them out, and it was unsurprisingly not working. His memory omitted sentences, placed emphasis upon expressions, and reminded him of things he hadn’t noticed in the heat of the moment. 

He searched feverishly for a defense, a recourse, _anything_ to convince himself he was still right in his outrage at Zelda. Nothing solid presented itself to him. He just had to think it _through._

But then he wasn’t very good at thinking things through, was he? No, not when he kept thinking – _fantasizing_ – about all the ways things with flesh could split, not when he sat in that chair under Shrike’s feather-lined roof and stared at the sky and struggled to see if the birds surrounding his island had a structure. How could he try and think about something as mundane as a relationship issue when his heart skipped a beat whenever someone’s voice was raised an octave above normal?

Eventually he stood, his head in a daze, and hunched his shoulders and trudged to the Academy, still stewing pointlessly. Aepon followed him closely, unsettled by Link’s conflict. It wasn’t dark out yet to trigger the changed Remlits and other creatures of the night, but it was getting dangerously close to that time, and Link’s skin had started to tingle in dreadful anticipation by the time he vaulted up the wooden stairs and up to the Academy doors. 

Aepon reached forth and tugged his sleeve, rasping worriedly. Link didn’t know what to tell him. “Go find a place to sleep, buddy,” he said softly, knowing the Crimson Loftwing was safe on the ground even if Link was not. It didn’t stop him from desperately wanting to pull him inside so he could have a warm body to sleep next to.

When he went inside and closed the door behind him, Instructor Horwell was just passing by. “Link,” he said in surprise. “It’s very late. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Link said, not wanting to talk, not wanting to explain anything at all right now. He pretended not to hear whatever Instructor Horwell said to that and dragged his feet to his room, where he didn’t bother changing and just flopped on his bed, staring at the wall.

He didn’t sleep that night. But that was okay, because he hadn’t really slept in a while.

Zelda wasn’t in the mess hall the next morning, and whatever small measure of hope Link had held that maybe a night of mutual stewing would obligate them both to talk it out again was snuffed instantly. Link barely ate, didn’t fully respond to any of his other friends’ questions, and wondered how the whole room could seem so quiet when only one person was absent.

His hope was reignited a little bit when it was time for his first class, which he shared with Zelda, but she wasn’t at their usual pair of seat by the door (they’d kept these seats out of humorous remembrance for when Aepon had broken into the Academy and dragged Link out). His eyes scanned the room and found her sitting in the back, deep in conversation with another friend. Dejected, Link sat heavily at his desk and ignored Fledge’s timid attempts to get his attention.

Zelda avoided him thus throughout the day, and by the time Link had to go and change into his black uniform for Shrike’s he wasn’t speaking to or making eye contact with anyone. Bitterness and confusion simmered under his skin, emotions he was becoming all too familiar with. 

He waited until a Knight was walking by to leave the Academy.

He stood paralyzed when that Knight turned and walked up to the Statue of the Goddess instead of toward the infirmary.

His relief was immeasurable when another Knight walked by, and he resumed tailing until she too wandered away, and the process resumed.

He reached the infirmary late due to his little fits-and-spurts method of getting there, and his rotten mood must have been showing on his face, for Pelica yawned, grinned at him, and said, “Have an _actual_ fight with your girlfriend this time?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Link grunted, sitting down far away from the counter where Pelica was reclining. To his surprise, Aepon was curled up in his old stall, crunching down some strange treat. The Crimson Loftwing perked up upon seeing Link and rasped eagerly past his full bill. “Why are you here?” Link muttered, feeling too devoid of energy to make the effort to crouch down to his bird’s level. “You’re not supposed to be here anymore.”

Aepon slowed his energetic movements, seemingly cowed. Link was too tired to care enough to reassure him. It wasn’t his fault he was in a bad mood. Aepon didn’t have a reason to be so overly enthusiastic about everything. It was grating. He supposed it was just because Aepon was stupid.

Link resigned himself to waiting. Zelda had to show up eventually. She was apparently walking Loriki home, after all, and he was going to force himself to notice this time. To see if she’d been lying to spite him.

She never showed, and neither did Loriki. When he asked, Shrike said matter-of-factly, “Loriki’s done. He paid up his debt.”

“Well, _good,”_ grumbled Pelica from the counter. “Frickin’ crybaby.” She yelped as an entire hurled bucket of mushroom spores collided with her head, and she and it went down with a crash.

Shrike turned to Link, beaming. “Much better,” he sighed as Pelica immediately began howling with rage. He then looked a little put out when Link turned away in discomfort. “By the way, Link,” he called after him, “after tomorrow _you’re_ done too.”

Pelica jumped up from her mushroom-cleaning stooped over position to shriek, _“What?_ I was here first!”

“His Loftwing is much more pleasant than yours is,” Shrike drawled. “Plus he himself is much more pleasant than you are. His time was cut down.”

As they began a yelling match, Link idly wondered if rallying the others to defend Shrike during the attack – _Don’t think about it, don’t think about it_ – had anything to do with his early dismissal. He didn’t really care either way.

And this news that his departure was imminent just made things more complicated, he decided sullenly as he sat down, waiting for a client or a task to distract him. His initial reaction was to rejoice, for now he didn’t have to put on the scratchy uniform every day and suffer through dealing with countless citizens who were convinced their Loftwings were Hylia come again. But this job had taken up over two months of his time, every day after school, and he had forgotten what he even _did_ with his life. 

Hanging out with Zelda, obviously. Which was off the table, now that they were no longer on speaking terms.

Goddess, he needed more friends.

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

Link trudged over to the corner and put his broom away, the excess dirt swept from the smooth floor. The sun wasn’t even close to setting, but there hadn’t been any clients for over an hour. Pelica was sleeping again and Shrike was whittling at his table, Ebirda curled up at his feet.

Link huffed something unintelligible and made to walk home, but Shrike called, “Come over here,” so Link stomped and stumbled his way to Shrike’s side, clamping his teeth down on an extremely justified rant that he was tired and sore and just wanted to go sleep for a thousand years or cry his eyes out or _something._

On the table before Shrike was a tiny set of colorful wooden Loftwings, their wings all similarly raised, from blue to white to green to orange, clearly brothers and sisters of the one Shrike currently worked on. Shrike didn’t say anything for over twenty seconds, ignoring Link in favor of dabbing tiny white circles to the cheeks of his miniature Loftwing, and that was the very end of Link’s span of patience. “What?” he demanded. 

Shrike didn’t even look up at him. “You all right?” he muttered to his hands.

“Am I- Am I all right?” Link repeated. “Wh- _I_ don’t know, yeah, I guess. What do you care?”

Shrike shrugged. “You’ve been acting strange. Plus I haven’t seen your lovely friend here lately, unless she’s picking up Loriki. She have anything to do with it?”

“I’m not acting strange,” Link snapped. “I’m acting normal.”

“Unless you’re normally snippy and angry at everyone, no, you’re not. What, did she replace you or something? Is that what this is?”

Link winced, remembering her anger at the subject. “No, she didn’t. And you can butt out, okay? It’s none of your business.”

Shrike grimaced at that, glancing up at him. “Ergh, that was insensitive, wasn’t it? I’m not good at talking to people, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“I noticed,” Link growled, turning to walk home. 

“Ah-ah-ah,” Shrike chided, and Link turned back to him with clenched fists. “I’m not done. If this affects your work performance I have a right to know, you know.”

“I have literally one more day,” Link said, half hoping Shrike would rise to his vitriol, would respond in kind. “One more day and I’m free from this stupid place. Happy? Then I won’t have to be all ‘snippy and angry,’ all right?”

“Every day counts,” Shrike said with a surprising amount of calmness, and that just frustrated Link even more. For once Shrike was being more rational than Link was. “Even the last one.”

“Not to me,” Link muttered. “I just want to go home and forget this place ever happened. Is that too much to ask?”

Shrike didn’t respond to that; Ebirda did. With a lurch of her knees she rose, shaking out her tail and tilting her head at Link. Link remembered how she’d oddly pecked him yesterday, how she’d put her head close to his and rolled her eyes, and he stepped back a little, wondering what weird thing the stupid Loftwing was about to do next.

She yawned, circling the table until she was level with the finished miniature Loftwings. Her head dipped down and her beak clamped shut on the body of a white Loftwing, its wooden torso caught between her hook and lower mandible, and Link opened his mouth to say something; he knew from experience the kind of devastation a Loftwing could wreak on tiny wooden toys. One tensed movement could cleave that little body in two (what color would it make if that body was flesh and not wood)-

No demolition, no devastation occurred. Ebirda’s feathers ruffled as her neck rose, figurine in her gentle grasp, and extended toward Shrike enough to drop the miniature on his lap. “Now, now, Ebirda,” he chided, pausing in his painting to lift the white Loftwing haphazardly by the tail. “This is hardly the time and place and person. We don’t give peoples’ business out like that.”

A reedy warble issued from Ebirda’s partially-opened beak. “Don’t you give me that tone.”

Link scoffed; Shrike’s eyes flitted to him, then back to his less than able-minded conversation partner. “We keep this among ourselves; you know this.”

“Why do you even bother?” Link wondered tiredly, exhausted at Shrike’s obliviousness; did he not understand he was talking to a wall? That his words fell upon empty feathered ears? Even Aepon couldn’t understand his monotone chastising, not without a bond, and Shrike’s bird was long dead and Ebirda’s partner was someone else. There was no point to his monologue. “She can’t understand you.”

Shrike responded only with a hum, to Link’s surprise; normally such backtalk would’ve landed him a lecture on how he was wrong and how amazing Loftwings were compared to people, _obviously._ But his attention was diverted to the golden Loftwing, whose eyes grew sharp and feathers slick and at attention. Her gaze locked upon Link; Shrike emitted a surprised noise as Ebirda rose tall and strode up to Link, her gaze penetrating, her massive size suddenly apparent. Link had never noticed, but he was now quite sure she was even taller than Aepon, and he was no small bird.

“Uh,” he grunted cluelessly, edging away from her advance; when a vertical beam harshly interrupted his backtracking he froze in place as Ebirda lowered her beak to Link’s eye level, her own golden eye boring right through him. Silence hung between them for a long moment; then, slowly but definitely surely, Ebirda wagged her head from side to side at the end of her stiff neck. 

She shook her head. No.

Link’s eyes, wide with confusion, flitted to Shrike, who was reclining back in his chair with a curious expression. “Oh, are you telling him?” he demanded. Link’s jaw dropped as Ebirda turned to face the doctor, head held high, and _nodded._ It could not be mistaken for an excited bird’s head-bob, for a rigid, animalistic expression of silliness; the end of her beak arced up and down as her neck remained stationary, a deliberate nod of affirmation.

No way.

“No way,” Link choked out.

“Yes way,” Shrike intoned. He stood, setting his finished Loftwing figurine on the table alongside the white one Ebirda had given to him. Its feathers were deepest crimson; no other Loftwing in his lineup possessed those colors. “Well, since _she’s_ all right with it, I suppose _I’m_ all right as well. I _guess.”_ Ebirda cawed, sharp and demanding. “I know, I know, I’m about to tell him!”

“Tell me wha?” Link breathed, staring between the two of them. His head felt detached from his shoulders; something like that would’ve been more rational, even. A gust of wind could’ve blown him over. 

Shrike sighed, wandering up to them. He reached up with a callused hand to give Ebirda a familiar scratch on the back of her head; Link almost warned him against it, confusion and bizarre trust in the bird doctor’s intuition with the golden Loftwing warring within his vocal chords. “Shrike?”

“Ebirda, is this the first time he’s seen you speak?” Shrike said aloud, with no pause, no tilt to his inflection to make it more easily heard, as though for a pet or a child. He spoke like his companion was another person. “Before just now?”

Ebirda shook her head again. Link just about swallowed his own tongue.

“How many times?”

Ebirda’s great beak opened, stiff, deliberate; twice she clacked it shut, easily heard. “Twice, eh?” Shrike confirmed. “I suppose he thought his mind was playing tricks on him. Thought the sun was gettin’ to him, making his head all wonky.”

“C-Can someone say something that makes sense,” Link blurted out, his words forceful and shaky from a confusion that now bordered on fear. Too many things at once, too much going on, and no one was able to give him a _little explanation?_ Did they not see his agonizing?

Shrike finally, blessedly, turned toward him. “What’d you just see, there, boy?”

Link didn’t even know how to answer that. “D-Didn’t you see? She- She just- She _nodded!_ A-A-And she shook her head no! What the h-hell, did you- did you teach her that or something- _she’s doing it again,”_ Link wheezed, pointing with a trembling finger at the offending bird, whose head was lowered and once again shaking in negation. 

“No, Link. I didn’t teach her any of that. All of that is what she taught herself. Isn’t she remarkable?” Ebirda turned toward him and nudged his shoulder with a little rasp; Shrike swatted her away. “Don’t be humble, now, you really are. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again.”

“B-But what? How?”

“Use your head, boy! How’s the only way a creature in this Goddess-given sky’s able to learn like that? To _understand_ like that? It’s not hard, now!”

“Be human.”

“No. Be _smart._ And Ebirda, oh, is she smart.” Shrike’s hand was on Ebirda’s head again, scratching and rubbing in rewarding little circles. “Link, you look ready to drop. Come have a seat, you.”

He hesitated, and Shrike clearly saw. “Relax, boy, neither of us will bite. We just want to talk.”

Link looked at Ebirda and understood that “we” meant the both of them, however that could be achieved. He slunk toward the offered seat next to Shrike’s as the older man collapsed into his; Ebirda settled down on her stomach between them, but not before snatching up four different-colored Loftwing figurines in her beak and dumping them between her feet below her. “Ebirda, sweetheart, you’d better return those when you’re done playing with them,” Shrike whined, and she nodded. Link decided he was never going to get used to that. 

“Sooo, uh,” Link began uncertainly, staring down at her. “What exactly is going on here?”

“What’s going on, Link, is that Ebirda’s letting you in on her great secret. And that secret is that, as you can see, she is not nearly as stupid as she presents herself. Not even close.”

“H- _How_ smart is she? How can she be?”

Shrike shrugged, leaning forward to squint at his latest crimson creation. “Needs a while to dry, but I rather think I’ve improved. Right, Ebirda?”

The golden Loftwing dipped her head to the ground, and at first Link thought she was dipping her head in agreement, but then she lifted her head again and turned toward Link, depositing one of the miniatures she’d snatched into his lap. It was a black Loftwing, wings spread to the sky and tail curled up over its back like all the others, but its whittle-work was markedly bulky and rougher in detail. The paint looked old and faded, and white and black overlapped and formed gray in certain places around what should have been a clearly-defined ovular stomach. “Agh, she never lets me live that down, no she doesn’t,” Shrike griped. “That was the first one I ever did. Clearly you can see my improvement, eh?”

Link looked up at the little crimson Loftwing. Sure enough, its red and white patterns were clearly defined at their boundaries, even down to the blue and yellow stripes on the ends of his flight feathers, and the golden eyes were wrought with such detail that they looked real. Good enough to be sold in any reputable toy shop. “Yeah,” Link agreed timidly.

“I’m glad I could’ve sharpened my painting skills up before attempting your bird, Link. He’s a unique beauty; it’s only right I could do him justice.”

Link stared at the set. It looked like every color was represented, including the gold, white, and blue Ebirda was currently toying with in the grass. She had the gold in her beak, swooping it around like a child with a toy in their arm, arcing slow figure eights in dramatic motions; Link imagined a little voice saying, “Whooosh,” with every turn of her head as she flew her own miniature around.

He couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “So-“

“I don’t know how she got so smart, Link,” Shrike cut in immediately. “Truly, I don’t. She’s always been like that, and from what she’s mimed to me it appears she’s been a genius ever since she descended to Ospren when he received her in his Loftwing Ceremony. It’s just how she is. Smart enough to watch us and listen, to learn our language and customs and interpret it as she will. You don’t need a bond to communicate with her; she just- she understands what you say, understands our speech. She’s a marvel.”

“B-But how come no one knows?” Link demanded. “Why’s it like some big secret? She acts so . . . so . . .”

“Stupid,” Shrike finished for him. “Yes, I know, and I don’t know why she does it either. I’ve tried asking her, but she just whacks me with her tail. Maybe it’s fun for her, to pretend to be of below average intelligence. You’ve seen her, haven’t you? Running around the plaza, climbing all over everyone to get them to scratch her? Maybe she divines some amusement from it. I have no idea. She has ways of talking to me, but maybe that one’s a little too complex even for her to convey with no voice of her own. Oh, to get into that head of hers! Ospren doesn’t know the true treasure he has.”

“Ospren . . . doesn’t know?”

Shrike shook his head grimly. “He thinks she’s dumb, just like everyone else did. And I think it’s a crying shame, keeping such a secret like that from him, but clearly on that we disagree. Still, it’s her secret and hers alone, and I respect what she wants, so I tell no one.”

Link heard rustling that was not from Ebirda; he looked over his shoulder and saw Aepon in his stall, standing on one leg and drowsily preening. His beak clacked against his feather shafts as he rearranged and straightened them with methodical purpose. He was paying no attention to the events unfolding; if anything he was paying more attention to the thundercloud they shared, ready to intervene if Link grew any more alarmed. The hairs on the back of Link’s neck stood up. “Are other Loftwings like this?”

Ebirda dropped her figurine to shake her head. “Just her, Link, just her,” Shrike refuted. “Aepon, he’s not deceiving you. Ebirda is an outlier; her intelligence is not normal for Loftwings. Our Loftwings are smart, yes, but they’re true animals. Ebirda is . . . well, not.”

Oddly relieved, Link looked out past Shrike’s table, over the distant edge of Skyloft and the approaching sunset. The cloud layer stretched out over the endless horizon, shot through with purple and orange as the sky began its transition from day to night. Stars were appearing overhead, little pinpricks of hot white. “Who else knows?”

“No one except you and me. It took me a long time to figure out, too, but I know Loftwings. And Ebirda’s a good actress, but I _know_ Loftwings. Something about her was always so _off_ to me, especially since she took a liking to me and started hanging around. Eventually I . . . well, I asked her, I said to her, ‘Ebirda, what’s going on in that head of yours?’ and she tilted her head at me, and I could’ve sworn she was smiling.” Shrike laughed, shaking his head and reaching down to pat Ebirda’s back between her shoulder blades. “Wasn’t long after that she knocked over a set of wooden letters- a kid’s set, you know. One of my workers was a young father, and he brought his daughter with him here to play, and she left it here on accident. I pop inside for one minute and the next I come out to see the letters on my desk spelling, ‘More mushrooms please,’ and this meddlesome bird standing there with a twinkle in her eye. So not only can she understand us when we speak, but she can read and write as well - and knows common courtesy, to boot. A wicked little thing, she is.”

By the end of this story Link was gaping, eyes wide and shoulders limp in disbelief. _Link_ could barely ask a question and tack on a “please” at the end; a bird had him beat. “That’s impossible,” he breathed, as though his insistence might alter this strange new reality.

“Quite possible, quite possible indeed,” Shrike hummed. “There’s not a bird like her anywhere.” Shrike leaned forward to drink from a mug on his table. “Your bird, he’s a deep bloody crimson, and the fastest flier this island’s seen in generations. My Delta, she was strikingly overlarge, strangely so, yet gentler than a newborn Remlit. Giusto’s all muscle, same as Banon, and no more agreeable bird I’ve ever met than Nohan. Cofana’s a feisty sort, and Cigi’s personality mirrors Nandu’s so closely it shocks me. Do you see what I’m getting at here?”

Link’s head, muddled down by so many things, could barely keep track of all the different names listed. “I . . . I think.”

“Give it a shot then.”

“Every bird is different.”

“Exactly. Every bird has his or her little _thing._ No bird is the same, just as no person is the same; every single one is an outlier in their own little way. Loftwings can be proud and generous and hateful and loving, just as we can. When these angels descend from the heavens in each of our Ceremonies, when the Goddess sends them to us, we’re matched with an entirely different, distinct personality, and our minds meld with theirs. No bond in heaven nor earth is such as this.” He shrugged, as though agreeing with any doubt that could be slung his way, thought Link offered none; had Link ever really listened to him talk about Loftwings like this? “So who’s to say a Loftwing could come down that isn’t fast, nor strong, nor red as the sunset, but a _genius_ \- a creature as intelligent as you or I. What’s so impossible about that?”

Ebirda lifted her head and watched Link with a steady eye, appearing to gauge his reaction. Link held her unnatural gaze for a long moment before agreeing, “I guess it’s not.”

Ebirda’s bottom eyelids fluttered up to cover the lower halves of her eyes; she couldn’t move her beak or her cheeks in the manner humans could, but Link knew she was smiling at him. She nodded contentedly, turning to rest her head on his lap; Link hesitated before her obvious plea. Somehow this was different, as he wasn’t just indulging the wants of an animal and was now being sought for a specific task by an intelligent _person._ “Ebirda,” he cautiously began, “is it all right if I scratch you?”

Ebirda wiggled her head up and down in a nod, restricted by her own weight on his lap but clear nonetheless. With a smile Link rubbed her gray cheeks around her earholes, knowing it to be a prime scratching spot and noting the familiar blissful expression the golden Loftwing adopted at his ministrations. “Ebirda, you are one excellent actress.” She whistled appreciatively.

“Being smart doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate a good scratching,” Shrike observed with amusement.

“Ebirda, do you . . . do you remember when I had to give Aepon that bath, and I rode on your back to the Academy? To lure him?” Link asked her, with every word getting more and more used to speaking to a Loftwing with expectation for a response, feeling less foolish all the while. Ebirda suddenly tipped her head back, open beak pointed skyward, and let loose a jumpy, raspy croon, her wings spread out and shaking; with a start Link realized she was _laughing,_ or at least imitating a laugh. “So you _do_ remember, huh?” he chuckled with her. “You- You know what, I wouldn’t be surprised if you knew what my plan was all along!”

Ebirda nodded with eagerness, eyes alight. “You _did_ know all along, didn’t you?” Another victorious nod. “H-Hey, Ebirda, do Loftwings have a-a . . . a language you all speak with each other? Like, do your cries mean words to each other?” A shake of her head. “So it’s all body language and stuff?” A nod. “Do pumpkins really taste that good?” Head shake. “Oh, I guess you don’t like them as much as Aepon does, right?” Nod. “Do headscratches really feel that good?” A vigorous nod. “What’s talking to Aepon like? Wait, don’t answer that, that’s probably too complicated, uh . . .” 

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Shrike asked. “Speaking to one of them and getting answers. She’s half the reason I’m so good at what I do. Now, don’t you be modest,” he protested as Ebirda turned to him with an indignant rasp. “You’ve helped me enormously, don’t deny it, telling me what remedy works and what specific motions calm Loftwings. I was good before, but I was no bird whisperer. Not until I met you, of course.”

She nipped his gray hair and tugged on it playfully; Shrike let loose a giggle in return. “Stop that, you.”

“What I wouldn’t give to talk to Aepon like this,” Link murmured with wonder. “I-I mean, I feel him all the time, but, you know, he’s an animal. Sometimes he makes _me_ feel like an animal, through our bond.”

Shrike looked at him with some confusion. “That so? How severely?”

Link quieted, realizing he’d said something of interest. “Oh, well, sort of. Like, I remember, around when he first came to me, I suddenly got a lot more focused on . . . I don’t know, brushing my hair, I guess? It’s weird.”

“Because you knew he’d try to preen it when you saw him, or?”

“No, like, it was _me._ Innately, I was like- I couldn’t leave my room without fixing my hair first; it’s kind of the same feeling I get from him when he preens, like an itch I have to scratch. It was like a need I-I couldn’t really place . . . ? I’m probably making no sense.”

Ebirda rasped quietly and tilted her head. “Yeah, that _is_ very curious,” Shrike agreed with her. “Loftwings can influence our behavior in times of dire need, but the need to preen isn’t exactly life-threatening. You can feel him when he preens? Just preening?”

“Well, not just preening. All the time.” Shrike’s eyebrows shot up into his hair. “Yeah, I know, everyone’s always surprised to hear it. I can feel Aepon in my head constantly. Like, imagine how it’s like to feel your Loftwing in your head when something urgent’s happening, now imagine that just . . . there. All the time.”

“How long has that been going on?” Shrike wondered.

“Ever since we got each other. I haven’t had my head to myself since I was ten.”

Shrike sat back in his chair, rubbing his chin contemplatively. “Now that really is remarkable. A constant bond between a boy and his Loftwing. No wonder he’s such a fast flier; you must be tapping into each other’s heads for coordination. Synchronization and such. Amazing.”

Link shrugged, looking down with a pleased grin; he never could pass up compliments on Aepon’s flying prowess. “I guess. I guess we’re another set of outliers, huh?”

“Indeed.” 

“I saw you two, you know. When the attack happened, I saw you speaking to her.”

“Ah, we didn’t exactly have time to be covert. I asked her to keep an eye out, to protect you kids should anything happen to me. Lucky for us she got the both of us covered, eh?” Shrike reached over and whacked Link’s shoulder companionably. “Eh?”

“I can’t believe she saved both of our lives- oh my god! Holy- _Ebirda!_ You can understand me! _Thank_ you!” Link exclaimed, gazing at her in earnest. “Ebirda, you were amazing, you really were! You kicked _ass!”_

Ebirda perked up in delight at Link’s praise, and reached forward with her neck to give him an affectionate nudge with her beak. “I’ll give you headscratches _anytime_ you ask,” Link declared. “I-I could be sleeping or something, and you can poke your head in my window and peck me awake and I’ll scratch you, ‘kay? You deserve it. Agreed?”

Ebirda lurched out of his lap as she stood, and at first Link was afraid he’d done something wrong; when she faced him and stood on one leg to offer her massive, scaly foot, he burst into hysterical giggles and shook it firmly. Her raspy laughter joined his, one voice human and one Loftwing, different in throat but equal in their delight.

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

It was with a lightened heart that Link waved Shrike goodnight and strolled out of the infirmary with his hands in his pockets, Aepon at his side and demanding walking scratches to make up for the long massage he’d witnessed Link giving Ebirda. The golden Loftwing was aloft; she swooped over them once, cawing, and Link waved as she disappeared into the dusk. The sun was just touching the horizon, and they were safe for a few more hours yet from the savagery of the Skyloftian night, affording Link plenty of time to get some of his ragged thoughts together.

Ebirda’s mystery was unraveled, for one, but it also came with more complications. After asking Ebirda the details of who could know about her, she’d given him permission to tell no one but Zelda, as she trusted the both of them to keep secrets between themselves (Link learned she used Shrike’s Loftwing set to communicate more complicated concepts than yes-or-no questions; she grabbed a purple figurine and pressed it into Link’s hand until he got the picture, no Shrike intervention required). The obvious problem with this was that as of now, he and Zelda were not on speaking terms, and oh how he wished that was not the truth. 

He wanted to share this amazing discovery with her. He could imagine perfectly the look of wonder that would cross her countenance, the delighted smile that would grace her lips, the light that would bloom in her blue eyes. Between Link’s snark and Zelda’s wisdom, the conversations the three of them could have! 

Link didn’t deserve her.

He didn’t know how he could have been so blind. Such vitriol he’d harbored, such venom he’d spat at his best and oldest friend, and for what? For what? Jealousy over a new face? Zelda was not his to covet or claim; she could go where she wished, speak to whom she wished, and Link could shut up and tag along for the ride as she deserved him to do. And if they hit trouble, if they hurt one another, there would be no sullen silence, no embittered resentment; they would talk it out like the best friends they were, like the adults they were becoming, like the Knights they had to be, _wanted_ to be.

For now, all there was to do was fix it. He’d created this rift; he would be the one to nail it shut, to stitch closed the wound that had divided Zelda and him, no matter how much his needle hurt. He needed her; he knew that on every level imaginable. He wasn’t about to let his dearest friendship slip through his fingers because of some dumb mistake he’d made. 

But first, he had to find her, and that was surprisingly difficult when his bird couldn’t just fly and look for her. Of course it occurred to him that a flying Loftwing would prove useful for finding Zelda _after_ Ebirda had become a speck overhead, and he had no way to call her back. His best guess was that Zelda was either at the Academy or somewhere with Magpei, and Link had no idea where he lived. Somewhere in the residential district, to be sure, but it also housed most of Skyloft’s population, so he couldn’t exactly go knocking on every door unless he wanted a sleep-deprived mob after him.

With a sigh, he beckoned to Aepon, projecting the current objective into the thundercloud: find Zelda. “Come on, bud. We can’t fly, but we can at least walk together.”

Aepon rasped in agreement, curious yet disinterested in a flighty, birdlike way about what had transpired with Ebirda. “I’ll tell you later,” Link chuckled, reaching up to trace Aepon’s feathered wrist down to where his white flight feathers stuck out from his crimson coverts. Aepon turned to nudge Link’s chest with his massive head, then feinted above Link’s reaching arms to sift his hook through his hair. “Ugh, cut it out,” Link snorted. “I’ll let you preen me all you want if you help me find Zelda.”

Aepon’s nails scratched against the cobblestones of the little bridge connecting the financial and residential districts, and Link sighed again, watching the steppes and cliffs of houses rise before him. Sleepy citizens trailed between houses and up and down backstreets, yawning and wishing each other a good night before turning in. Farmstands were being dismantled; wares were being hauled through doors. Loftwings were following their partners to their homes and roosting up on the roof, or even entering the houses with them; many felt safer with their birds nearby after the attack, and it would be a long while before Skyloftians trusted their city again. Scars took a long time to fade. Some never did.

Link walked in a circle three times before figuring he’d start to the right, following the river and watching it sparkle and gurgle in the late evening sun. Aepon waded in to swallow a few beaks’ worth of water, then dipped his head under to splash it over his back. Link waited for him to return to land with his hands on his hips and an indignant gape. “Aepon, you terrible bird. Are you bathing yourself? Like, of your own free will?” The thundercloud turned a coy yellow. “You are, aren’t you? Why do you even give me such a hard time when I have to bathe you, you moron?”

Link chased Aepon a good half mile down the river for that transgression, and by the time he thought to look around to see where he was they were approaching the graveyard. Link sighed yet again as the houses grew sparse, then nonexistent, with no Zelda to be seen. For all he knew, she was within a house, or even back at the Academy all along. He’d find her for sure tomorrow; it was late enough that she’d be in her room. “Come on, Aepon. Let’s go home,” Link called quietly, but Aepon wasn’t looking at him. He was by the water again, his head tilted so that his eye beheld a bench across the graveyard, under a tree facing the near edge of Skyloft. It looked inhabited. 

“Just some late-night people, Aepon,” Link soothed, but Aepon rasped a familiar call, looking up; Link followed his gaze to behold a familiar Loftwing circling the bench high above. It grew darker every minute, but Link could still see Nohan’s lilac feathers. 

Link squinted harder at the shape on the bench. He couldn’t pick out many features, but he could tell it was two figures, with one leaning heavily into the shoulder of the other. The one being leaned on was Zelda, he realized; he could see her long ears sticking out from her hair, even from here. 

He was halfway across the graveyard when his steps faltered and slowed, dragged to a stop by blessed butterflies in his gut. His heart beat hard with shame and nervousness. He had to think of what to say. What could he say? He supposed it was better that he could apologize to both Zelda and Magpei in one, but some part of him had hoped to catch Zelda alone all the same.

Aepon shifted restlessly at his side, not understanding the tension at hand. Link filled his lungs with a great breath, gathering courage, and spurred himself into motion.

 _Well, here goes,_ he thought bracingly, and with dragging feet he trudged over to the bench, Aepon following close behind.

He kept his gaze on the ground until he was next to them and turned around to face them, his mouth open but silent; he had no idea how to phrase this apology. But it turned out he didn’t have to. Zelda glanced up at him, wide-eyed, but the boy leaning against her wasn’t Magpei.

“Loriki?” Link blurted out, confused, and then his eyes widened. Loriki was crying. His eyes were red and puffy, his face was pale, and he didn’t look like he was able to speak. At the sight of Link he ducked his head as though ashamed, whimpering and burying his face in Zelda’s shoulder.

“No, shh, it’s all right, sweetheart,” Zelda crooned to him. “Link’s nice. We can tell him.”

“Tell me what?”

Loriki whimpered again and shook his head, not looking up. Zelda’s eyes met Link’s. He couldn’t read her expression; it was caught somewhere between sad and fierce, her eyes large and shining and her jaw set. She went back to murmuring to Loriki, saying consoling things.

Link wasn’t really sure what to do with himself. He almost felt like plowing ahead and just going through with his apology, but he had no idea what was going on, and he thought it might be inappropriate. “What happened?”

Zelda managed to get Loriki to sit up again. He was hunched over, his arms clutched to his stomach, sniffling and staring at the ground. At an encouraging one-armed hug from Zelda he cleared his throat shakily and attempted to speak. “I- . . . um,” he whispered tremulously. “I . . . C-Colpa bit me.”

“Colpa . . . your Loftwing?” Link asked, remembering the name Loriki had called during the attack when the white Loftwing had shown up. Link couldn’t hold back a scoff that he tried to make sound reassuring; he’d been expecting something much worse. “Well, that’s not so bad. I mean, Aepon bites me all the time, you know? When I irritate him and stuff. It’s not a big deal.”

Far from being reassured, Loriki let out a sob at his words and buried his face in his lap, his shoulders shaking as he started to cry. Link winced. “Wait! Crap, I’m sorry. Loftwings just do that sometimes; come on, you know that. You just have to avoid annoying them! They’re just . . .”

He trailed off when he saw the look Zelda was giving him. She was glaring murderously up at him, shaking her head. Link started getting a sick feeling in his stomach. “What?” he asked weakly. “What is it?”

He had a feeling he was missing something very, very big.

Zelda turned to Loriki again, speaking softly to him and tugging gently at one of his sleeves. He shook his head feverishly, but she said, “No, he’s my friend. He’ll understand,” and he covered his face with his right hand as Zelda took his left, stretching out his arm for Link to see. He didn’t really get what she was doing. Lofting bites were just nips at worst. They didn’t leave marks. They didn’t . . .

. . . Loriki’s outstretched arm was very dark and shiny.

Link’s skin turned cold. Colpa hadn’t bitten Loriki; she’d _mauled_ him. A great tear rent Loriki’s sleeve and, through it, flesh, a bloody red trough that ran from elbow to wrist. Split, veiny pink muscle gleamed wetly along the edges, and Link’s gorge rose when he realized he could see a bit of white bone beneath all that sluggishly overflowing blood. Loriki’s shirt was plastered slickly to his skin from all the wetness, and there was a dark stain in his lap where he’d been cradling his arm.

“It hurts,” Loriki whimpered. “It hurts.”

“Oh, Goddess,” Link breathed, covering his mouth with his hand in revulsion. “Oh, my- what happened?” he demanded. “What did you do to her to make her do this?” 

Behind him Aepon cawed lowly, staring at the wound, uncomprehending. Link tried to imagine his Loftwing as a scary presence and couldn’t. There had to be some kind of mistake. Loftwings just didn’t _do_ that. They protected their partners; that was the whole point of them. Loriki had to have attacked her first or something. Offended her. Belittled her. _Something._

Loriki shook his head weakly at Link’s words, a whine slipping out of his throat as he tore his arm out of Zelda’s grip to press it back into his stomach. “I-I- . . . _nothing,”_ he gasped. “I d-didn’t _do_ anything, she- I didn’t do anything,” he repeated, shaking his head in denial. “I didn’t. I didn’t. I didn’t do anything!”

“Okay, okay,” Link gasped, swallowing, “you need to get to the hospital. Now. That is _bad._ We need to get your parents, okay?“

 _“No!”_ Loriki nearly screamed at him, looking suddenly terrified. “Not them, they think it’s my fault, they’ll-“ He cut himself off with a choking sound and lowered his head as he started to sob brokenly again. “I don’t know where to go,” he wailed.

Link tore his eyes away to stare at Zelda. She’d dropped the sternness and now just looked anguished, wrapping her arm around Loriki’s shoulders. “He won’t move,” she said quietly. “I tried to get him up, but . . .”

“I want my Maggie,” Loriki moaned into his hands. “I-I want Magpei.”

Zelda whipped her head around. “Link, find Magpei.”

“Wh- I don’t know where he is!”

“The purple house two levels down from Gonzo’s,” Zelda said immediately, “the one with the door facing the little wooded area. It’s big, you’ll see it.”

Link nodded shakily, straightening up. “Hurry!” Zelda barked at him, and he took off, his heart hammering in his chest. Aepon trotted after him, rasping in distress and confusion.

 _Loriki’s Loftwing attacked him,_ he thought dumbly as he ran, his mind unconsciously translating the sentence into pictures and colors for his bird to look over. Aepon’s thundercloud bled confusion like the black tentacles of a blot of ink upon paper. He rebuked Link, called him confused, called him stupid, called him a liar. He took the thought as an insult. He was unable to reconcile the image of a Loftwing with the notion of harming a person. Link couldn’t blame him. Neither could he.

Link was panting and gasping by the time he neared the eccentric blacksmith’s home, stomping, arms swinging heavily as he slowed himself down enough to look around. The woods were to his right, and before it lay the only house that could match Zelda’s description. It was bigger than a lot of other houses he’d seen, and he had a vague recollection of someone pointing out that someone well known lived in this area.

He vaulted up the steps and knocked on the door, trying to regain his breath. Aepon danced in place and swished his tail in agitation, still crying out in protest over what Link had tried to tell him. Link glanced at him and wondered if all this running would hurt his chest.

He heard heavy, irregular footsteps before the door opened. Magpei stood in the doorway, staring at him. “Hey, Link,” he greeted with a cheeriness that seemed way too forced. “What’s up? You okay?”

“You,” Link gasped, unable to get out a full sentence. “Loriki. _Agh._ Hurt.”

Any enthusiasm, forced or no, drained immediately from Magpei’s face. He lurched forward suddenly, catching Link off guard and making him stumble back. “Whoa, hey-“

“Where?” Magpei demanded, voice strained, his eyes wide as dinner plates.

“Uh. . .” Link hesitated a bit too long.

Magpei’s hands shook as they grabbed Link’s shirt and hauled him close. “I said _where?”_

“The- ah,” Link gasped, trying to wriggle free. “The bench by the cemetery-“

Magpei released Link so fast he almost fell right over. He straightened back up only to see Magpei launching himself off the steps, busted ankle forgotten, and charge down the path toward the graveyard. “Crap,” Link wheezed, and ran after him, Aepon following.

He had a lot of trouble keeping up, and only could because Magpei was using sheer body mass to forge a path when people blocked his way. He barreled right through them, knocking some folks over without a backward glance, leaving Link to shoot a “sorry!” over his shoulder because he couldn’t slow down.

As he drew level with Magpei at one point he heard him speak.

“I hate her,” he was spitting under his breath. “I’ll fucking kill that bird. I will kill her.”

Link was too confused and, if he was honest, frightened to respond.

Magpei picked up the pace when he caught sight of the bench by the graveyard and skidded to a thudding halt against it, breathing hard, before sitting heavily on Loriki’s other side. Link and Aepon stopped beside him, also panting laboriously from their back-and-forth trip. At the sight of him Loriki wailed, _“Maggie,”_ and, detaching himself from Zelda, collapsed against his brother, burying his face in his shoulder and sobbing. Magpei wrapped his arms around him immediately, his fierce expression turning to one of wretched sorrow. 

“Show me,” he said, and Loriki shakily held out his maimed limb. Magpei put his hand under it, supporting it, and Link saw he was trembling. Magpei swallowed hard, pale as bone. “It’s okay, Iki. We’ll fix it up, okay?”

“Can we _please_ get to a hospital or something now?” Link said pleadingly, staring at Loriki’s arm, unable to look away. “Like, now?”

Loriki mumbled something into Magpei’s shoulder, who shook his head grimly. “No . . . we’re fine.”

Link giggled disbelievingly, no amusement present anywhere in his voice. He shifted back and forth, unable to keep still. “You’re _fine?_ Look at his arm! It looks like it needs to be amputated or something!”

“Shut up,” Magpei spat, glaring at him. “We’re not going to a hospital.”

“Why the hell not?”

“We . . .” Magpei started to speak, then trailed off weakly. “We, uh. We’re not allowed.”

“Not allowed? W-Who, like, _disallows_ you?”

Magpei said, “No one,” at the same time Loriki whispered, “Our parents,” and Magpei’s voice was so loud and Loriki’s so soft that Link almost hadn’t heard the younger. 

It was Zelda who quietly broke the silence that ensued after that. “Your parents don’t let you go to the hospital?” she asked softly.

Magpei looked like he wanted to tell her, but kept glancing up nervously at Link. At a nod from Zelda he grudgingly murmured, “No. At least, not over something like this.”

“This has happened before,” Link realized, staring at Loriki’s arm. “Colpa has . . . attacked Loriki before.”

Loriki shuddered, and Magpei paused to murmur gently in his ear. Finally he quietly said, “Yeah. Lots of times . . . every time.”

“Every time what?” Link asked, a little bit blunt.

“Every time he’s alone. Every time he’s outside. She just follows him around and just- just _waits,_ and if she can catch him alone she just-“

Link remembered Magpei’s mother come to force him home, remembered Magpei’s desperation to stay with Loriki, remembered, _“I’ve been walking Loriki home every day, but I guess you didn’t notice.”_ Then he remembered Loriki’s marred arms, the ropy scars on the soft flesh that would be exposed had Loriki raised his arms to defend himself, and how pale Loriki had gotten when that brown Loftwing in the infirmary had grabbed for his sleeve.

“But _why?_ What did you do to make her attack you like this?”

Magpei looked ready to kill him. “Nothing.”

“It can’t be _nothing.”_

“Well, it is,” Magpei snarled. “If you’ve got an explanation I’d love to hear it. Ever since we were ten and Loriki _got_ Colpa, she’s taken every fucking opportunity she can to kill him. The only time Loriki has ever touched her is when they first bonded under the Goddess. After that? She avoided us for weeks, until one day Loriki went outside without me for, what, a minute? I walked out and found her on top of him, tearing him apart.”

Link was shaking his head before Magpei had even finished. “That- that’s-“ But what that was couldn’t come to mind. He couldn’t think of an adjective to express his confusion, his disbelief, his disgust. He wanted to call them liars, like Aepon did – he wanted to so badly. Because birds just didn’t _do_ that. Birds were protectors, mentors, partners, friends – the entirety of society revolved around these creatures and their bonds with people.

 _“But Loriki, that’s just silly,”_ Magpei drawled in a mocking rendition of a random voice. _“Your Lofting is your best friend! She’ll alllwaaays protect you!”_ Magpei growled wordlessly. “That’s what everyone says. That’s what everyone says every single time this happens. And that’s why we’re not allowed to go to the hospital anymore. Because- because they all think he’s just trying to get . . . to get _attention,_ or something, and deliberately provoking that bitch- As if he _wants_ to get his throat torn out every time he steps outside.”

Unbidden, Link’s gaze flitted to the side, to his bird’s hovering bill, the bill that was longer than Link’s legs, the bill that could probably crunch through bone like it was nothing. The hook upon its end was razor sharp and made for tearing flesh. Link’s eyes went to his Loftwing’s talons. He saw curved black nails, each over six inches long. How deep they could pervade, how silently they could rend, how devastating they could be on the paper-and-silk body of a small human.

“How many times has this . . . happened?” Zelda asked quietly.

“Thirteen,” Loriki mumbled against Magpei’s shoulder. “This makes thirteen.”

“You’ve never . . . touched her?” Link asked, trying to imagine something like that. He spent literally every waking hour with Aepon, absentmindedly touching him, playing with him, and talking to him. He was having trouble imagining a life without that sudden luxury. Aepon was his other half, his personal thundercloud, the opposite hemisphere of his brain, his and his alone.

Magpei started to say something, but Loriki interrupted. “I tried,” he breathed shakily into his brother’s neck, his eyes squeezed shut, not looking at anybody. He was ashamed. His maimed arm was still dripping, dropping red stains onto Magpei’s lap. “I tried. But she’s always away. O-Or hiding. And if she’s not- if she’s on the ground, a-and I go up to her . . .” He took a breath, his jaw trembling. “She just-“

With a whimper he started to cry again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. She hates me and I d-don’t know what I did. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

Link had no idea what to say to that, and from the look of it neither did Zelda. Thankfully, it seemed Magpei did. He immediately tugged Loriki closer to him, shaking his head. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” he crooned. “Come on, you know this. You’re amazing. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s all her. It’s her problem and her loss.”

“I’m sorry,” Loriki sobbed again. “I’m sorry, Maggie, I thought- I thought since . . . since she showed up when I called her, during the attack, I thought . . . I thought she might’ve stopped, so I saw her today and I-I went up to her-“

“I know,” Magpei sighed, and he sounded so sad, so wretched. “I know, and it’s okay. I don’t blame you. But listen, Iki, you don’t need her. You’ve got me. _I’m_ your Loftwing. Me and Giusto, we’re all you need. Right?”

“Mm-hm,” Loriki hummed shakily, sniffling, and suddenly Link felt shame like he’d never felt it before. Here was Magpei reassuring his little brother after something more horrible than Link could imagine had happened, here was Magpei looking like _he_ was about to cry, and for the past month Link had been literally stewing with unjustified hatred for him.

“What can we do?” Zelda asked Magpei. “We have to take care of his arm.”

Magpei looked at her wearily. “We’re fine. I know you want to help, but we’ve done this before. I’ll take care of him.”

“You know how to stitch that?” Link asked numbly. 

“No, but . . . I know someone who does. Seriously, guys. It’ll be easier if you leave us. I don’t want him to get any more stressed out.”

Zelda chewed her lip for a long moment. “Are you sure?” she asked quietly.

He nodded. “Z-Zel . . . thank you. Thank you for finding him. And Link,” Magpei said, turning to Link with earnest, honest gratitude that struck Link dumb with guilt, “thank you. Thank you both so much. If he’d been alone . . .”

Zelda smiled, strained. “Of course.” She stood, looking wobbly, and gestured to Link. “Let’s go.”

“But-“

“Come on,” she murmured, catching hold of his sleeve. “I trust them.”

Numb, Link allowed himself to be led away from the graveyard, shuffling along in Zelda’s wake. Aepon trod behind them. He glanced back, watching as Magpei and Loriki became nothing more than two dark shapes intertwined on the bench, feeling like he should’ve said something more to them.

He walked with her in silence, his sleeve still caught in her grasp. Several times he tried to speak, but his voice kept dying away in his throat.

They slowed and stopped near a shadowed copse by the bridge over the river, leaning against a tree with downcast eyes and bowed shoulders. They stared at the grass instead of each other.

Link listened to the gurgle and tinkle of the sunset-spotted water to his left and tried to focus on what he wanted to say. His chest felt full of mire, sluggish and congealed; as if he needed to have _another_ terrible truth thrust upon him to stall contemplation. He didn’t want to _know_ all of this. Even if it was all true, if he actually lived in a place where Loftwings could attack their people for no reason, where it was sunny and bright all the time so you could see all the burned buildings in vivid clarity, where thugs could attack in broad daylight and no one could do a thing about it, Link would have preferred his view of his pristine, peaceful, perfect home from a month ago, even if it was just a fantasy. 

He was _fifteen._ He didn’t want to _deal_ with all of this.

Zelda broke the silence first. “I found him hiding under the bridge. I guess he got away from, um . . . his Loftwing, and hid.” She started chewing her lip. “It took me a while to coax him out of there.”

“I didn’t know Loftwings could do that,” Link murmured, and his voice was jumpy and kept giving way. He swallowed hard. “I didn’t know any of them could just . . . hate their person like that. For no reason.”

“I didn’t either.”

Link swallowed again, forcing himself to look at her. He was only able to hold it for a second before focusing instead on her knee. “Zelda,” he said weakly. “I’m-“

But he couldn’t force out the words. Hours of rumination bled out of his brain like they’d never been spent. “I’m-“

And just like that, he was crying. A whimper escaped him before he could stop it, and his face crumpled; Zelda started toward him in alarm and he turned away, mortified. “N-No, _no,_ I didn’t mean to- I’m not- I’m not trying to- to guilt-trip you into being nice to me again, I swear-“ He covered his face in his hands, shaking his head, trying to regain control of himself. What was _wrong_ with him?

His breath was starting to come quick and shallow. He felt Zelda touch him, try to put her arms around him, and he leaned away. “Oh, Goddess, I’m so pathetic,” he moaned, his voice shuddering and breaking. “I-I’m so sorry, Z-Zelda, I’m sorry, I was such an idiot an-and I acted so bad and I’ve b-been l-lashing out at everyone.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered immediately, and he withered to know his friend was so damn forgiving, and it wasn’t okay; it most definitely wasn’t okay. 

“No it’s _not,”_ he breathed, his palms sticky and wet against his eyes, his eyelashes stuck together. “’S n-not, ‘cause I was _weird_ and stupid and all controlling and- and who even _does_ that? Who- and I-I c-can’t sleep and when I do I get all these bad dreams, and I can’t w-walk anywhere ‘cause I’m scared, I’m so scared of nothing, and I keep imagining everyone all- all cut up and bloody, like, Shrike and you and Aepon, I keep imagining what it’s like to stab people because- because I almost _did,_ and I’m not sure i-if I w-want to b-be a Knight-t anym-more-“

He was all-out sobbing now, pitiful as a child, tasting salt on his tongue, and finally he let Zelda embrace him. She rocked him back and forth, murmuring sweet nothings as he pressed his covered face into her shoulder, the noises whimpering out of his throat embarrassingly loud and contemptible. “I took it out on you,” he choked. “I took it all out on you and Aepon.”

And they – _they_ – were _goons,_ nothing but stuffed-straw enemies, just ragged people in ragged clothes on ragged birds. But they’d arrived on Skyloft and pillaged and burned, and Link hadn’t even seen a fraction of it, hadn’t even seen much of _anything._ But they’d just _done_ it. None of them had _stopped._

He was weak and pathetic to be messed up so badly from not even three hours of mostly silence and laughing pirates who had quickly been taken down anyway. 

“It’s okay,” Zelda whispered in his ear, holding him impossibly tighter, and he knew he didn’t deserve this girl one bit. “It’s okay, I know. I got a little messed up, too. I did too.”

Aepon crept close and pressed his forehead against Link’s side, crooning quietly. Link swallowed messily and freed his hands from his face, the air cool on his wet fingers and cheeks, and wrapped one arm around Zelda and the other around Aepon’s head. He’d called these two _stupid,_ he had. He’d called them vapid and grating and oblivious and spiteful liars, these two people he loved more than anything. They were too good for him.

His breathing began to even out, which foretold the return of Link’s terrible personality. “Well, this was gross,” he croaked against Zelda’s shoulder, and she chuckled breathlessly. “No . . . seriously. There’s a stain right here. Not sure if it’s tears or snot. You better wash this.”

“Big dumb dork,” she muttered, lightly knocking her head against his. She leaned back a little, looking at him; Link couldn’t meet her gaze, and he stared at the ground. She leaned forward and gently wiped the wetness from his face before kissing his cheek. “I accept your apology.”

“Good. Thanks,” he mumbled, still hugely ashamed. He forced his lips to quirk up in a smile. “Thanks for . . . for being an angel.”

Zelda snorted lightly, taking his hands in hers. “Come on, you. It’s late. We’d better be getting back home.”

Home sounded wonderful.

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

Zelda spent the night in Link’s room again. They would’ve switched it up and sneaked up to Zelda’s room, but apparently girls just barged in on each other all the time up there, and it wouldn’t do for one of them to stumble in and see Zelda and Link cuddled up together in one bed.

They stayed awake for a very long while in mutual rumination. Finally feeling the tiniest bit lighter than ten tons, Link slowly, haltingly, struggled to rake through his mountain of metaphorical trauma-leaves, with Zelda there as the most supporting guide he could ask for. He stuttered through confessing that his jealousy had been quite irrational, and let his intense guilt be known; her response was not as clipped as he expected, but soft and yielding, yet she apologized not at all for her behavior and he was fine with that. 

“I was hurt too,” she whispered. “I wasn’t normal for a while either.” She hadn’t done anything wrong, though she refuted him, insisting she should have stuck by him because he was so messed up. They spoke seriously of their futures, of their commitments to their causes of knighthood and whether they were cut out for it; after almost an hour of debate, they agreed to ride out their post-stress anxiety together and see if their will would waver, and consult with other Knights to verify whether this fragility was common.

Zelda confessed in turn that she’d had a bit of a midlife crisis. She’d seen her best friend thrown off the edge of Skyloft with no bird to catch him and had truly felt despair and horror and loss for the first time in her life, even if it was just for a few seconds. Every time she’d looked at him afterwards she felt a cross between anxious and numb, she said, and it scared her to leave him alone, but she timidly admitted that Link’s frostiness when it came to the twins had pushed the numb part into the forefront. 

By the time their eyelids were drooping and yawns interrupted their sluggish words, they’d managed to laugh a good amount of times, and Link had made at least four and a half jokes about falling off of Skyloft. They considered it a good conversation. They considered it an even better night when they fell asleep curled in each other’s arms.

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

Nothing sounded less inviting than work the next day, but there was no avoiding his obligations. Besides, there was something final and poetic in ending the epic struggle that was employment under Shrike. What kind of Knight would shrink away from the very last day of his first job? Ignoring the fact that he was not paid or thanked for his work.

It was a Sunday, so he had the whole morning and early afternoon to putter around with Zelda. This mostly consisted of them lying in bed until around two, drifting between croaky conversation and gentle napping, until, using each other as steadfast support, they both rolled out of bed and devoured a late breakfast. They could not be blamed for the late hour of their rising; neither had to admit to the other that last night was the first time in a long time they hadn’t dreamed or slept fitfully. They sat opposite each other, hair scruffy and unkempt and plastered to their faces, clad in baggy pajamas, legs stretched out to intersect those of the other as they ate. Neither was willing to be separated from the other for a while.

Neither said aloud the question on both their minds; neither had to voice their mutually grim curiosity and concern over where Magpei and Loriki had spent the night. 

By the time they finished eating and sitting with slouched backs, conversing in tired voices, it was time for Link to get dressed in his black uniform for the last time and seize the day. Zelda accompanied him to his room (ignoring his tiredly playful invitations to come in and watch him undress) and waited outside until Link was ready. Their walk to Shrike’s was quiet, but companionable. Link was grateful for it. It was a welcome respite to their tenseness and bitter silence.

Another welcome respite was the sunshine. It no longer felt fake and dim, but as warm and inviting as it always should have been. It was easier to look upon the grass and see it as it was, not as it had been when everything was wrong; since last night gaps had appeared in Link’s memory, preventing obtrusive thought into the pirate attack from occurring, but it wasn’t the constraining fashion of the earlier month. It seemed to be giving Link ample time to rest and recover. He looked to the side at Zelda and found her flesh live and whole, unmarred by his memory or imagination.

“Are you still walking Loriki around town?” Link asked her as they drew near to the pavilion. With his newfound knowledge he felt excessively generous, both out of sympathy for the twins and guilt for his earlier actions, and decided he would accompany Zelda around, if she would have him.

“I would, if I knew where he was,” Zelda says softly. “They said they weren’t going to the hospital, and they definitely won’t be at their own house . . .”

Link cleared his throat anxiously. “Their, uh . . . I get the impression their parents aren’t all that great to them.”

Zelda did not respond. 

Pelica was snoozing with her forehead plastered to the counter when Link and Zelda walked in, and the door to Shrike’s home was ajar, indicating that the doctor was somewhere within. Aepon was nestled in his stall; he appeared too used to the space by now to go anywhere else, at least until his flight feathers grew back. He rasped in greeting. Zelda turned to Link.

“Would you be angry with me if I left?”

“Wh- no! Goddess no!” Link gasped. “Go ahead, just . . . I don’t know, whatever you’re doing, be safe.”

Zelda, tense until his quick answer, relaxed with a grateful smile. “I want to go look around for the twins . . . I don’t know where they are, but I want to make sure they’re okay.”

“I’d help you look, but . . .”

“Don’t worry about it, Link. It’s fine. Focus on your last day. And hey,” she said with sudden inspiration, “maybe you could see if Shrike knows what to do about Colpa. He _is_ a Loftwing expert.”

“Was planning on it,” Link reassured her, for the same inspiration had swept over him moments before she spoke. 

Zelda swept him up in a gentle hug, which Link returned with restrained enthusiasm, before waving him and Aepon goodbye and heading up toward the Bazaar.

Link placed his hands upon his hips and considered the workspace around him. With only two kids left to complete work that had kept six kids busy, and the only remaining helper being useless at best and detrimental at worst, Link clearly had his day cut out for him. Tools had gathered a thin layer of dust in the night; they would need to be washed and disinfected. Aepon’s and Cofana’s stalls were in need of some serious and attentive sweeping; the brown Loftwing was impossibly tidy, despite being an enormous bird, and required much less maintenance than his messier compatriots, with whom he’d already made friends, even the irritable Cofana. 

Bobbing lightly in the breeze, turned dusky by sunlight shining through the barbs on its vane, Aepon’s crimson feather stood out from its place among its drabber fellows hung among the rafters. Link smiled when he saw it.

Shrike emerged from his home, slipping through the dark doorway with uncharacteristically careful movements; at the sight of Link standing before the infirmary, feet planted wide apart, hands on his hips in sure preparedness to tackle this day, Shrike shut the door securely and nodded at him. 

“Full of sorrow, aren’t you? Beset with grief at leaving this place?”

Link placed his hands over his heart, feeling oddly hyper. “I just don’t know how I’ll go on.”

“Well, wipe your tears, my little troll; you could always orchestrate a fake injury for your bird if you want to stay that bad.”

“You know, I think I can manage. Hey, where’s that bucket with the dent in it, the one we use for washing things?”

Shrike shrugged. “Beats me. It’s not like _I_ do grunt work. I need more kids with sick and easily-remedied Loftwings to trap here! Soon it’ll be just that ogre over there and no one else to do anything. At least Nandu knew how to handle Rupees; I don’t think _she_ can count up to four.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” Link snorted, sidestepping the doctor’s erratic pacing, “without Octoroks maiming anyone else. Would you get out of my way? I’m trying to work.”

“Don’t be so snippy,” Shrike whined. “I _own_ this place.”

“Yeah, and I run it. Look, a customer. Go torment them,” Link shooed, gesturing to an approaching old woman with a similarly creaky gray Loftwing. 

As Shrike dealt with an intestinal infection, Link busied himself with dust and finance (after he shoved Pelica off the counter and out of his way, of course) and intrusive thought, cautious with these broken boundaries that used to creakily stem the flood of memories and fantasies that had tried to slip through the cracks ever since the attack. He was more than comfortable with his and Zelda’s promise to ask around and think about whether they wanted to seriously be Knights, and his heart warmed with the knowledge that they would stick together through it all. The fact that he’d been so wrong humbled him. He was only fifteen; he could afford to make mistakes as long as he repaired them.

He got sidetracked as he was polishing some shears about what kind of gifts he could shower Zelda with as a sort of homecoming gift (friend-coming gift?), but when he nearly sliced his thumb open he opted for concentration to avoid distracted bleeding fingers.

Before he abandoned that train of thought, he contemplated what they might do with the twins. There was nothing in him that was willing to abandon them to their current situation; he even found himself wondering if he could tell his Instructors or the Headmaster about their parents, or anyone else who could do some digging. He fervently hoped Zelda had found them by now. 

It was almost too much for one boy to handle. He felt years older in just a month; he could not imagine how he was before this.

There were a couple of times where the opportunity to bring up the twins’ situation arose, when clients lulled and Shrike was loitering around the inside of the infirmary instead of out buying things or tiptoeing in and out of his own home, and when Link’s tasks required him to stay in one place sorting or dusting. Yet every time Link made to open his mouth and give voice to his fears they converged on his heart and choked it, swirling icy blessed butterflies around his chest and making his hands shake. He couldn’t talk about it without being confident he wouldn’t cry, and that apprehension kept him quiet until a sick Loftwing approached, or Shrike wandered away, and Link felt both relief and disappointment.

Before he knew it, twilight was upon them. He had to interrupt his thoughts several times to help Shrike with customers, including one scary instance involving a broken leg and a fiercely reactive blue Loftwing, but between Shrike’s skill and Link’s calmness the situation was more under control than not. As the shadows lengthened Link was quickly running out of things to do. 

“Hey, Shrike,” Link called from behind the counter, counting the day’s haul, more to release some nervous energy than anything, “have you, uh, have you seen Loriki around anywhere? Or Magpei?”

Shrike didn’t look up from what he was doing to reply, “The twins? Hmmm . . .”

Link waited for his answer, but when the pause stretched on too long he blurted out, “I heard they had some trouble last night. S-So I was wondering where they went after that, if you’ve seen them around town, or . . .”

Shrike turned away from a paper he’d been reading over, watching Link with an unreadable expression. His eyes flicked to the side, to the chair Pelica was sprawled in and snoring, oblivious to the world. Only after seeing her asleep did he shrug at Link and say, “They’re crashing on my couch.”

“They . . . what?”

Shrike jerked his chin toward the door of his home. “They’re both in there. Didn’t get much sleep last night, you see, so I let them stay as long as they needed . . .”

Link stared at Shrike’s door, relieved to realize the twins had been here the entire time, and he was more than sure of their safety. At their mental state, he could only guess. “So-So you know what’s going on . . . ?” He paused, wondering what Shrike was allowed to know.

Shrike sighed, a weary, aged sound. He gestured Link forward. “Come on, boy, help me close up and sit down with me. I know you want to pick my brain about this particular sad topic. Let’s try to end your last day here on a more knowledgeable note.”

Dread and curiosity reigned as Link obeyed, along with a twist of melancholy that rendered his movements deliberate and slow as he packed items away, sorted Rupees, and drew shut the light curtains around the edge of the overhang they used to keep the nighttime terrors out of the workspace. _This is the last time I’m going to be doing this,_ he realized. He idly wondered if Shrike accepted paid work. This job had consumed all of his attention the past few months; it would be tough to acclimatize himself to all this free time. Despite the grit and grime and bad-tempered birds, there was little that compared to the feeling of watching a Loftwing on the road to recovery. He supposed that sense of accomplishment was akin to Knighthood. 

When nothing else was to be done (and Pelica had scampered off sometime when they weren’t looking; Shrike shook a fist in all general directions at her laziness) Link hovered around Shrike, unsure of where to go. The doctor gestured to the chairs he and Link had occupied the previous night and Link sat, ribs shaking from the chill and the anticipation. He waited for Shrike to sit and speak. 

“Loriki’s arm was badly cut, likely by the hook on his Loftwing’s beak. It didn’t tear any major nerves or blood vessels, but it’ll take an awful long time to heal and he likely will lose feeling in his arm and hand . . . well, _more_ feeling, as he doesn’t have much feeling left in them to begin with, there’s so much scar tissue . . .”

Link felt queasy and suspected Shrike did too. He’d started out with his technical doctor tone and trailed off into a more strained human one. Link decided to get right to the point. “Why does his Loftwing do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“There has to be some explanation. Can’t you think of anything?”

“I’m a Loftwing specialist, not a miracle worker. The best I could do is guesswork.” He heaved a heavy sigh, tapping his feet in the dirt. His collection of Loftwing figures was gone, probably stowed in his house somewhere. “Loftwings are-“ He cut himself off, as though gathering his thoughts. “I told you yesterday, boy. Loftwings are as varied as the colors they sport on their feathers.”

“So his Loftwing being some . . . some murderous psychopath is just a personality trait?”

“No, nothing so mundane. An anomaly. A . . . mistake. Tell me, boy, do you remember what I told you last night? About what Loftwings are?”

“You told me that they’re . . . they’re all unique, right? And they all have a different something that makes them stand out.”

Shrike glanced over his shoulder, at his house; Link followed his gaze out of reflex. All of Shrike’s windows were closed. “Yes, and?”

Link wished Shrike wouldn’t be so didactic about it. This felt too urgent, too serious to ask Link to figure out on his own. “They’re unique individuals who all have different personality traits that get sent down to us . . . ?”

“Yes!” Shrike said. “They get sent down to us, and paired for life with a child they must protect. Their minds and souls become one, sharing separate bodies. Two distinct personalities are meshed together forever. Link, if every person gets a bird, and every bird gets a person . . . what do you think the odds are of two personalities matching up badly? What are the odds, do you think?”

Link squirmed; Shrike’s voice was earnest, like this was a secret spoken too little of. “. . . Big?”

“Think of any two random people in this city, Link,” Shrike intoned, “and mash them together for life. Make them share minds. Can you picture strife arising? Can you picture friction?”

Link thought of Groose. “Oh. Definitely.”

“Then how is our ritual any different?” Link took issue with the word _ritual,_ like their sacred traditions were backwater practices. “Down comes a black Loftwing, who swears her life to her boy. Down comes a Crimson Loftwing, who becomes his boy’s best friend.” Shrike tipped his head back, staring up at the purpling sky above. “Down comes a white Loftwing, who can’t stand the boy she’s stuck with. She hates the bond. She hates the obligation to protect someone she doesn’t like. So she tries to get rid of it. Tries to get rid of that nagging presence at the recesses of her mind. Now, no one asked her to be so drastic as to try to _kill_ her charge, but . . .”

“So Loriki had nothing to do with it?” Link asked. “It’s just a freak chance that his Loftwing . . . what, just decided to hate him?”

“No, Loriki had nothing to do with it, and certainly has done nothing to earn it. Never a sweeter boy has ever crossed under this tent. But you thought so, didn’t you?” Shrike asked, turning to Link. “You thought Loriki must have done something wrong. Something to earn Colpa’s ire. Didn’t you?”

Link felt guilty, and not for the first time. He remembered the wild, terrified, _anguished_ look in Loriki’s eyes, and knew that nothing Loriki had done could’ve justified such a mauling. “I did at first. I just didn’t understand, because I guess . . . all I’ve ever known is Aepon being protective over me. Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Shrike touched his fingertips together, tapping the nails of his pointer fingers against his grim mouth. “This is just how our society works. Everything we do revolves around our bond with Loftwings. They’re how we get around, he we stay safe, how we stay sane. They float down on divine wings from a deity in our most important ceremony. We burn offerings to them at the hundreds of statues all over Skyloft dedicated to them. We love them, and they love us.

“Of course no one takes Loriki seriously. Of course no one believes him when he says he’s innocent and Colpa attacks unprovoked- and if they do, they accept any reason to discredit him. Ignore him. No one wants to face this particular monster. Not when it’s staring them in the face from the eyes of a lifelong companion.”

Shrike swallowed, and cleared his throat. “And Link, boy, I cannot stress the toll it has taken on Loriki. To know that his life’s partner, the one who shares his mind, the one literally created to protect him, hates him enough to try to _end_ him . . . why, it can be too much to bear. What would you think of yourself, if someone took a look in your head and turned around and tried to kill you? It’s a perversion, it is, such an intimate betrayal. It’s like . . .”

Link thought about Magpei flinching away from his mother. He thought about their fear that they be found out last night, as if they’d done something wrong. “Like a parent hitting their own child.”

Shrike looked at him carefully. “Exactly.”

Link tried to think of it in his own terms, in his own head. He thought of Aepon, strong and loyal and fierce Aepon, turning his many weapons on his boy. Clumsy, blurry images of black talons curling into his flesh, and a menacing beak closing on his face, were enough to upset Aepon enough into rising. He trotted from his stall, head and body low to the ground in urgency, and stood next to Link to stare. His red-tipped tail swished anxiously, and his feathers clung close to his body. He rasped, harsh.

“I know, buddy,” Link said softly, Aepon’s presence erasing his forced fantasies with comfortable routine. Aepon lowered himself beside Link, resting his enormous head on Link’s lap and closing his eyes. The thundercloud throbbed like a headache, or like a heartbeat.

_I’d never hurt you._

“I’d never hurt you,” Link whispered back, leaning down to kiss the the crown of his bird’s head.

Shrike gazed on with an indiscernible look in his eyes. “Never waste what you have,” he said sternly. “There are precious few things like this. And now you know how rare you have it.”

Link’s fingers sifted through Aepon’s red nape. He glanced at Shrike. The leather cord around the doctor’s neck that held Delta’s feather ran down under his shirt. “Shrike,” Link asked, “what happened to Delta?”

“I killed her.”

Silence reigned for a slow, creeping moment, like a drop of molasses oozing from a spoon. Link opened his mouth and tried to speak, but nothing came out.

Shrike did something Link had never seen before. He crossed his arms over his chest, tucked his chin down, and truly showed his age. His hollowed eyes were lined with wrinkles; the mustache bristling under his hooked nose was mostly gray. He looked small.

“I killed Delta,” Shrike said, louder, “because once upon a time . . . when I was your age, or even younger than you, I was not like you. I was, fortunately, not like anybody . . . I was terrible. I was intolerable. I thought I was untouchable. When I received my black beauty during my ceremony, my perfect Delta, all I could see were flaws.

“I hated her. I hated her from the moment she appeared over me, under that Goddess’s shadow. I hated the bond, I hated the sudden company in my head. As the days stretched on, I hated how she hovered around me. I hated the obligation of it all. So I ignored her. I was the Colpa to her Loriki, and I treated her wrong.”

Link listened as though ensorcelled, at the horror of it all and at the bizarre thought of Shrike ever treating a bird wrong. He always spoke so highly of Delta, and now . . .

“When I was . . . barely your age, I think, I had completely shut her out. I didn’t notice her waste away, alone and without any help. I didn’t notice and if I had, I surely wouldn’t have cared. But when she, alone on some island somewhere, passed away, then I felt it. Then I _felt_ it. Do you realize how busy your head is, sharing it with someone else? And then . . . the silence?

“I went mad. I went well and truly insane. The quiet in my head was unbearable. I could barely eat, barely sleep, barely breathe. My poor father nursed me like I was an elderly man. For years I rotted in my bed, unable to summon the energy to move, or care about anything. All I did was lie there and regret; all I did was cry out for Delta. The worst part just won’t leave me. The worst part is that, even just before she died, she loved me. She loved me with all of her heart.”

Shrike’s voice was mechanical, his preaching tone with all the life sucked out of it. A desiccated log instead of living bark. Link was not sure what he would do if Shrike cried — Link thought he himself might start crying — and watched his face carefully. Shrike only stared dead-eyed ahead.

“Well, that tale ends happily . . . mostly. Somehow, as I learned to walk again, my father got me into this place. Got me into an apprenticeship with the doctor who preceded me. I became enamored with the care of birds. It’s interesting work, and I’m very good at it. Maybe, I thought, I could save more. Maybe, no other bird would have to suffer like Delta did. I could do good in the world. I could undo my own mistakes.” Shrike chuckled humorlessly, shaking his head. “I know better now. All these birds I’ve saved . . . and I’d trade every single one to have Delta again.”

As Shrike fell silent, Link stared at him. He felt like he needed to say something to fill the quiet. “I’m sorry,” he said croakily.

Shrike shook his head, eyes closed and brow furrowed. “I’m not the one who needs the sorry. That Colpa, oh . . .” Shrike’s eyes grew mean. “That Colpa has no idea what she’s doing to herself.”

Link wished Zelda were here. She always knew just what to say, and this wasn’t a situation Link felt he could be clumsy with. He felt both tired at this new sad story added to his life, and humbled. He wanted to ask Shrike how many people know this particular tale, but guessed the number was low. “I never thought . . . wow. I don’t really know what to say.”

“If you don’t trust me with Aepon anymore, I don’t blame you,” Shrike said, far too easily. Link had never heard him discredit himself thusly. “A decent chunk of people who remember who I used to be don’t. I don’t blame them either. Who can trust someone who can’t care for his own Loftwing, with theirs? It makes sense.”

Link felt details missing in how Shrike used to be, but from what he discerned, who Shrike was sounded familiar. “Is this why you hate Magpei so much?” Link asked. “That, and he’s got a black Loftwing?”

Shrike scoffed, a wry grin tugging at his mouth. “I am a very petty man,” he sighed, “and that’s a quality I could never quash. Magpei is everything I used to be, but with one crucial difference. I was full of hate, and that boy is full of love. Love for only two things in his life, sure. But one of those two things is his bird. A black bird, at that. He bests me, in every way. It’s maddening.” Shrike quieted, then added spitefully, “He’s also ugly.”

Link snorted, his smile stretched wide after hearing so much tragedy. “Oh, sure.” He slumped further down in his chair, arms around Aepon’s huge head. He thought about it, then said, “I still trust you with Aepon. I mean, it would be stupid not to, since you healed him so well. It’s obvious you care about all of these Loftwings. I think you just . . . you know, made a bad mistake when you were young and stupid. _I’m_ young and stupid. I’ve been making tons of mistakes recently. And you literally, like, devoted your life to changing. That’s so good.”

He felt lame, and ashamed, wondering if it was even his place to express a conclusion Shrike might not have asked for. He barely even knew the situation, anyway. 

“That is very nice of you to say, Link,” Shrike said. “But there are ‘making my girlfriend mad’ mistakes, and mistakes with more tragic consequences. You don’t have to try and make me feel better. Years and years of coming around have taken place long before I just told you my sorry tale. Still . . . I appreciate it.”

Embarrassed, Link winced. He opened his mouth to apologize.

Shrike said, “I suppose you aren’t such a troll after all.”

What came out of Link’s mouth was not an apology. “Oh, come on!” he exclaimed. “After all this time, you _still_ call me a troll?”

“Hah! Maybe you’ve earned the right to escape that particular title. Maybe I’ve gone soft. Tell me, was it so bad here? Did it truly give you a taste of hell, or have you gained a new appreciation for how the world works?”

Link glared jokingly at Shrike. “Both.”

“Then that’s all I could ask for,” Shrike chuckled. “A most torturous lesson.” He sighed, tipping his old head back until his gaze was leveled on the overhang. The string of feathers lacing the edge of the roof danced in the light evening breeze. “I think I may offer Loriki a job here,” he said thoughtfully. “Loriki is very good at this, though he doesn’t believe it. He has respect for the birds, and not just a fearful respect from Colpa. I’ve not met a boy with a gentler soul. And _someone_ has to take over for me eventually.”

“That’s a really good idea,” Link replied. “Plus, uh, it might be good to get him out of the house.”

Shrike’s neutral frown turned angry. “That is right as well.”

“You’re gonna have to get used to Magpei, though.”

Shrike rolled his eyes like the world was ending. “I suppose I’ll _manage,”_ he groaned. His gaze flicked down to the distant horizon, orange fading fast on the edge of the cloud layer. “Ahh, Link, you’re officially free. Don’t let me keep you home. Drop off the uniform sometime, so I can pass it on to my next victim.”

Link made to stand, then hesitated. “Is there, like . . . anything I can do to help about them?”

Shrike waved a hand. “Let me take care of it. I don’t say that just as an adult who wants a kid to get his nose out of some business. I say that meaning I will take care of it.”

Link’s guts still squirmed in dissatisfaction. “I’m a Knight. I should be doing something.”

“You are also a 15-year-old who has had a very long and draining couple of weeks. Go and sleep. You’ve got a nice, free day tomorrow.” Shrike looked at him sternly. “You don’t want your ankles bitten clean through by a Remlit, do you?”

“Thanks for the visual.” Link stood, leaning up on his tiptoes to stretch. Aepon rose with him, head dipped close to Link’s shoulder, greedy for touch.

Link held his bird’s head as he looked down at Shrike, sitting alone. The finality of tonight surrounded him all at once. Coming here every day has taken up so much of his life, he barely has any idea what to do tomorrow.

Maybe he’ll spend it walking around Skyloft. Maybe he’ll look for Magpei and Loriki. Maybe he’ll stop by the infirmary to chat. He will probably spend the whole day with Zelda, and he will look at her and love her every time.

“Thanks,” he said, and cleared his throat to say a stronger, “Thank you.”

Shrike wrinkled his nose and grinned at Link boyishly. “Thank _you._ You’re the one who so viciously cleaned my shears.”

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

It was dark by the time Link and Aepon got to the Academy doors. Night descended like a shroud, emptying the world of sound and color. Aepon’s red feathers turned dark and nondescript, a shifting maroon mass under white moonlight.

Link paused by the doors. Something about this night made him want to stop and look and listen. Crickets sang from clumps of grass down the stairs; flags stretched across rooftops fluttered tiredly on a breeze barely there. The air was warm enough to keep Link comfortable. He felt alive in his own skin; he felt unbearably, and wonderfully, present.

Aepon opened his beak and uttered a low keen, lowering his head until his great glittering eye hovered before Link. Link reached forward to hold him. The feathers beneath his palms were familiar and relaxed, warmed with Aepon’s fiery life. His golden gaze was piercing. And from him exuded an irreplaceable presence, an assurance, a promise.

Link wanted to commit every part of him to memory. He leaned forward until his forehead rested on Aepon’s, breathing as one with his partner. “I love you,” he whispered, stroking over Aepon’s white cheek. Link felt his bird’s reply, love returned tenfold, blooming from the thundercloud they share, washing through every one of his veins, pooling warm in his heart.

For a while they stood there, leaning on each other. Link had so much to say, and too few ways with which to say it. He had to rely on fleeting images, and on steadfast feelings. Words were too limited. Nothing he could say would do it all justice.

Eventually, Link settled on, “Good night, Aepon.” Through and through Aepon’s feathers did his fingers stroke. Every time he thought it was the last one, he drew his hand back for another.

“Good night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who!!
> 
> Didn’t expect another chapter, did you? I wouldn’t blame you! Want to know the worst part? All this time, this chapter was sitting in my computer with only one scene left! As Breath of the Wild came out, I got nostalgic and went searching for Polarity and finished it right up. I’m very happy about exploring the darker sides of a lifelong bond, and I hope I didn’t disappoint! Even if most of this is four-year-old writing. 
> 
> Ebirda’s intelligence or apparent lack thereof was an unintended development. At first she was just genuinely dumb, but then I wrote Matchmakers and made her smart, and the idea of her faking it kind of took root. At this point in time, Ospren doesn’t know Ebirda is so intelligent, but he finds out at some point during the events of Skyward Sword, so his torment ends soon.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr and Twitter under the name “Saphruikan.” If you’re into Pokemon or SNK, give my newer fics a bite! My writing has changed for the better in these long four years.
> 
> This fic has been an absolute blast, and brought me a lot of happiness. I’m very proud of it, and I’m proud of all the wonderful comments people have left over the years. I’ll never forget the impact it had on me and my future writing. It’s a little sad to admit there will probably never be more, but who knows? Maybe someday I’ll open up TCL and jot some words down, when I’m not busy procrastinating on higher-priority fics.
> 
> Good night, Link. Good night, Aepon. It’s been a life.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I only just joined Archive Of Our Own, so I have little to no idea how things work here. If I do anything wrong, someone slap me and then kindly direct me to the correct method of doing things. Thank you!


End file.
